Loss Prevention
by BullDemon
Summary: When MacGyver falls ill during a high profile investigation, it's up to Peter and Nikki to help determine what's wrong and who's responsible.


The darkness of night had long ago settled across the small Los Angeles harbor, a crescent moon and scattered stars affording little light to the area. Boats of all sizes bobbed and tugged against their moorings, as the early morning tide tried to carry them out to sea. Except for the occasional thump of a boat or slosh of a wave, the cool night air was silent and crisp, lightly scented with the aroma of sea salt.

Off to one side of the harbor, a lone houseboat floated quietly next to the dock, its windows and doors as dark as the night sky above. The house seemed to be sleeping, the gentle wave action of the ocean rocking it peacefully. No one was at home, the boat's lone occupant half a world away at a peace summit in Russia.

In the distance, a car door slammed shut, startling several neighborhood dogs into barking. They quickly settled, and the night air became quiet once again. At the harbor's entrance, a solitary figure immerged from the parking lot, and began to skulk amongst the shadows. Darting through the small patches of light that emanated from the moon above, the person silently made their way down the dock and towards the houseboat. Treading quietly onto the porch, the person made a quick visual sweep of the area to be sure they were indeed alone. Satisfied, they thrust a hand into their pocket and immerged with a simple pair of picks before setting to work on the front door's lock. Several moments later, a nearly inaudible click signaled their success as they re-pocketed the picks and slowly made their way into the house.

Taking out a small flashlight, the figure paused for a moment to check the layout of the building, taking careful note of any obstacles that may be in their way. Quickly, they head for the silently running refrigerator and pull open the door, momentarily blinded by the burst of light that followed. Searching for something, the person finally reached out and selected a sealed milk carton nestled in between several bottles of juice and bags of fruit. Once assured the date on the carton was still good, the figure set it aside and reached into their pocket once again. Rather than picks, they withdrew a capped syringe, its contents taking on a greenish hue in the light of the fridge.

"I saved the best for last. Just for you…" the person muttered, uncapping the syringe and taking up the milk. Tilting the carton downward, they inserted the tip at the point where the cardboard carton came together at the top, a place that would more than hide the tiny hole it created. After depressing the plunger and emptying the syringe, the milk was replaced on the shelf and the refrigerator door was closed.

"This will teach you for taking something that's not yours…" the dark figure uttered as they stood and made their way to the front door. "Never again will you steal someone's hard earned glory…my glory…"

Several Days Later

> > > > > > > >

MacGyver sighed wearily as he slowly clambered out of his old jeep and leaned into the back to pick up his single bag of luggage. He had always traveled light – something he had learned early on in his career. It made the entire process of packing and unpacking somewhat tolerable, and it saved a bundle of time at the airport. Fishing his keys from the depths of his pocket, he made his way down to his house, nearly tripping over the small mountain of mail and newspapers that had accumulated over the last 5 days.

"Terrific" he muttered, stooping down and tucking as many of the items as possible under his arm and chin. Struggling with the full load, he quickly let himself into his house and shut the door behind him. Mail spilling out everywhere as he shuffled his way over to the counter, the troubleshooter soon realized being neat at this point was futile, and simply dumped his possessions unceremoniously onto the floor. As he flicked on the kitchen lights, he caught a glimpse of his tousled hair and disheveled appearance in the microwave door and sighed.

_Guess I do look as sapped as I feel…_ he thought, making his way towards the refrigerator. Pushing aside a few bags of over ripened fruit, he snatched up a carton of milk and quickly checked the date before pulling it open. About to put the container to his lips for a much-needed drink, Mac cringed when the phone beside him began to ring.

"I'm not home," he uttered, taking a long swallow from the milk. Leaning against the sink, he listened as his answering machine picked up, immediately recognizing the voice on the other end.

"_Mac, it's Pete. If you're home, pick up… Mac, it's important. Please, if you're there…"_

The hint of desperation in his boss's voice sent MacGyver hurrying for the phone.

"Pete! Wait, it's me! I'm here."

"_Oh, MacGyver! Thank goodness. I'm so glad to hear your voice. I was getting worried,_" Pete said, his relief evident.

Mac dropped into a chair with his drink. "What's going on?"

"_There's been an incident involving some of the key players in the case you helped close right before you left."_

"The Hoff's case?"

"_Yes. It all started the day after you left. People who took part in the investigation and trial have been being attacked. Our agents, witnesses, even the police are being targeted. There have been unexplained accidents, poisonings, threats…several are already dead."_

"You want me to come in tonight?" he offered, wiping the milk from his mouth with the back of his hand.

"_No, no, I was just getting worried when you weren't home on time. How was your trip by the way? Did the summit go well?" _

"Yeah, it went great. We made some real progress this time. I wish I could say the same for the flight."

"_Rough flight?"_

"Just long, tiring, and turbulent. Oh, and in case you're wondering, the weather in Beijing is absolutely beautiful this time of year."

Pete was silent for a moment. "_Beijing!"_

"Engine trouble. We got rerouted. Twice. That was about 18 hours ago though," he replied with a sigh." But, it sounds like you haven't had it any easier here."

"_Far from it. Listen, why don't you come in sometime tomorrow morning? I can catch you up to speed then."_

"Can do."

"_And, MacGyver, watch yourself. This guy is after anyone that worked on the Hoff's case." _

"Don't worry about me, Pete," he assured him. "I've got eyes on the back of my head, you know that."

"_Yeah, well, just be sure to keep them open. Get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."_

"Night, Pete."

Mac yawned as he hung up the phone and downed the rest of the milk in one large swig. Tossing the empty container into the trash, he forced himself to his weary feet and stretched his back before heading towards the stairs.

_Oh yeah…_ he thought, mounting the spiral steps that led to his loft bedroom. _It's_ g_reat to be home…_

> > > > > > > >

"Your meeting with the police chief is scheduled for 2 o'clock tomorrow."

Peter Thornton, the Phoenix Foundation's director of field operations, scarcely looked up as his secretary breezed by his unorganized desk.

"Thank you, Helen," he muttered, preoccupied with the memo that was in front of him. "Tell the chief I'll be there."

Helen nodded and turned to leave, nearly bumping into the person who had just stepped into the office. "Oh! Good morning, Mr. MacGyver."

"Morning," he uttered as the shorter woman slipped beside him and out of the room. "Pete?"

"Come on in, Mac," Thornton said, waving him in without looking up. "You won't believe some of the stuff that's coming down from…hey, what's wrong? You look beat."

Mac sighed as he dropped heavily into one of the padded chairs in front of his friend's desk. He looked exhausted; his color unusually pale except for the dark circles beneath his eyes, and his slumped posture clearly showed a lack of energy.

"It's just jet lag," he muttered, dragging a hand through his unruly hair. "So, what's going on?"

"The day after you left for Russia, all hell broke loose here at the Foundation. And this is what started it all," Pete began, handing him a small piece of paper.

"'To avenge the one who stole my glory. No one is safe. The serpent has awoken. He is hunting,'" Mac read aloud, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Wow."

"Wow is right. It was found on the desk of Thomas Perry last Wednesday. That night, two of the arresting officers from the case were found dead in their squad cars, apparently having died from carbon monoxide poisoning."

"Thomas Perry. He's that agent from Canada who's been helping us with the Hoff's case, right?"

"Yeah. And it doesn't stop there. Take a look at this."

Mac accepted the paper being offered. "What is it?"

"The list of victims…" Pete said, hesitating slightly before adding: "…so far."

"Eleven people have been hospitalized and seven are dead?"

Thornton doubled checked the memo on his desk. "Actually, it's eight. A jury member was found dead this morning with a broken neck. Apparently he fell down the stairs of their apartment building."

"Right," he uttered, pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off the dull ache that had formed in his head.

"The situation has gotten out of control. I've got all the people I can spare working on it, plus the police, and now there are rumors about getting the FBI involved," Pete sighed. "I've arranged a safe house for the remaining case players that want protection, but I don't know what else to do. And I think you should consider staying there too, at least until we get a handle on who this guy's after."

Mac shook his head. "Uh-uh. Not going to happen, Pete. We went over this last night: I can look after myself."

"But, MacGyver, you won't _know_ where to look. This guy has no discernable pattern, his methods of attack are random, and he's becoming increasingly more violent as the days go by. He's also made it crystal clear that he's not going to stop until he eliminates…"

"…The one who stole his glory."

"Right."

The large office fell silent as he reread the name of victims. "And you're certain this has to do with the Hoff's case?"

"Positive. It's the only common denominator the victims share. What bothers me most is that Perry was adamant that everyone involved in the ring was taken down. And now it looks like we've missed at least one."

"Well, there's got to be more clues around here somewhere. Even the most obscure, and seemingly random crimes have patterns. Do you have all the police and coroner reports?"

"We've got a command center established at the safe house with all of the pertinent paperwork. It's about 40 miles outside of town if you'd like to take a trip out," Pete said, watching as his friend rubbed his bloodshot eyes. "That is, if you're feeling up to it…?"

_No, not really…_ Mac thought dully. _But duty calls…_

"Sure, why not?" he said at last, clapping his hands loudly against his knees. "I'd like to talk to some of the other victims too, get their stories straight from them. Will Perry be there?"

"He should be," Pete replied, standing and taking his navy dress jacket off the back of his chair. "I've got him in charge of the safe house security. It's the only way I could keep him there for most of the day."

Mac fell into step beside his friend as they left the office. "You mean he didn't want protection?"

"He's refusing to accept 24 hour protection, even after the bomb threat," he answered, hitting the elevator call button.

"Bomb threat?"

"Last Friday he was about to get into his personal vehicle when he noticed something unusual about the back bumper. Turned out to be a pipe bomb rigged to go off when the engine was started."

"It was live? Nice." Mac uttered sarcastically as they entered the lift.

"Real nice. It shook him up pretty bad, but he insists that he can look after himself. Sounds kinda familiar, doesn't it?"

Pete couldn't help but laugh at the exasperated look his partner gave him.

"Relax, Mac!" he cried, holding up his hands in surrender. "I was only kidding."

After another few moments of a hard stare, Mac's scowl finally broke into a grin. "You'd better be."

> > > > > > > >

Morning passed into early afternoon as MacGyver sat with his chin cupped in his hand, trying to concentrate on the words in front of him. He'd been reading reports and chatting with people who had sought the protection of the safe house for hours, and still had yet to come up with anything new.

Looking at the paperwork that surrounded him, he sighed, realizing he was still knee deep in folders and files he had yet to review. Although informative, the reports were dull, dry, and somewhat repetitive, making the process slow going. To make matters worse, his lack of energy, headache, and a more recently forming stomachache, were rapidly threatening to turn his bad day into a rotten one.

"Mr. MacGyver?"

Mac looked up when he heard his name, and turned to look over his shoulder. Catching sight of a vaguely familiar face, he set his work aside and stood. "Mr. Perry."

Thomas Perry was a man of averages: average height, average weight, average looks, and an average outlook on life. In his mid-40s, Perry's unnaturally jet-black hair and blindingly white teeth gave him the impression of a former used car salesman, while his size too short gray suit and fake, toothy smile unflatteringly rounded off his appearance.

"Mr. Perry, it's an honor to finally meet you in person," he said, offering his hand in greeting.

"It's Tom, and yes, I've heard a lot about you and the incredible work you do for the Foundation, MacGyver," Perry greeted, his right sleeve slipping back slightly as they shook hands.

Glancing down, Mac cocked an eyebrow when he saw what appeared to be a very realistic viper head tattooed along the man's right arm.

"Nice snake."

Perry smirked and self-consciously tugged down his sleeve. "Thanks. You could say they're a passion turned obsession."

"_Ah_."

The Canadian cleared his throat and motioned for them to sit. Awkward chitchat over, it was time to get down to business. "So, Mr. Thornton tells me you're going to help us out on this one too?"

Mac settled back onto the couch amongst the paperwork. "I'd like to try. I've been going through the reports and making a few notes, but I have to admit, whoever is doing this is very, _very _good. It's rare to find this many crime scenes so clean."

"It certainly is, but than again we have to remember who we're dealing with here. Benjamin Hoff was a Federal Investigator at the top of his league before he got into dealing noxious chemical agents and high-powered weaponry. He knew what he was doing and surrounded himself with only the best men he could find."

"Yeah, but even the professionals slip up from time to time. And that's where people like you come in. You track them down and flush them out," Mac replied, trying to build good rapport by stroking the man's ego a little. As the words left his mouth, he watched Perry's eyes suddenly flash black.

"And then there are people like you who somehow manage to stumble into an impromptu gathering of all the key players and subdue them with a tin of cayenne pepper and a bottle of seltzer water, while the hard working, honest guys like me lay waiting for weeks like a snake in the grass, just itching for a break," the agent spat out all at once.

Mac tipped his head. _Was this guy serious?_

Taking a deep breath, Perry smoothed several wrinkles from his pants and cleared his throat. "I'm just kidding you, of course. I am _truly _grateful that you caught Hoff and his cronies when you did. It prevented a large and very lethal shipment of chemicals and explosives from being shipped into our northern territories."

The troubleshooter shrugged nonchalantly. "You're welcome. And, like I've told everyone else, it's you that deserves the credit on this case. Not me. You did all the dirty work. I was just in the right place at the right time."

Perry snorted. "Yeah, right. Tell that to my supervisor."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"So, I heard you were targeted by the suspect as well?" Mac asked, deciding to change the subject slightly. He watched as the glare in his counterpart's eyes softened, his tone smoothly changed from hostile to friendly.

"Yeah! I couldn't believe it! I was coming off of work last Friday when I noticed something wasn't right with the rear bumper of my car. What I found was a pipe bomb that enough shrapnel to turn me, and anyone within close proximity into pincushions. I immediately recognized it as a typical Hoff design, as I've come across them before throughout my investigation. They're quite difficult to disarm and rigged to blow at the slightest slip of the finger."

Mac tipped his head. "Wait. You disarmed it yourself?"

"Of course. I couldn't just leave it there unguarded while I went to phone in a bomb squad, so I did it myself," the agent replied simply. When only stunned silence came from the man across from him, he continued. "Does this surprise you?"

"Ah, no, I just didn't realize bomb defusing was one of your skills."

Perry shrugged matter-of-factly. "It's just a little something I've picked up over the years. It comes in handy now and then."

"I bet."

A tense silence fell between the two men, interrupted a moment later by a low buzzing sound coming from Perry's pocket. Reaching into his coat, he withdrew a small black pager that buzzed and vibrated wildly in his hand.

"Well, duty calls. Looks like I'm needed back at the office," he said, standing and offering his hand to shake. "It was nice to meet you, MacGyver. Now I finally have a face to put with the voice and reputation. I just wish it could have been under better circumstances."

"I'm sure there'll be time later to chat," Mac replied, as the two shook hands again. "Pete says you're in charge of the security around here?"

"Yup. I've got every inch of this place under the watchful eye of the best men I could find. I don't think even one of Hoff's men would dare set foot around here right now. It's the safest place to be. Are you staying?"

"No, I prefer to be my own security guard."

Perry shrugged. "Huh. Well, suit yourself. Just remember to watch your back. I don't want another victim to deal with."

"I'll keep that in mind," Mac said, pasting a forced smile on his face until the guest agent had left the room.

Alone with his work once again, MacGyver sighed and dropped heavily onto the couch. Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, he tried unsuccessfully to push the gnawing pains in his head and gut to the back of his mind. Writing it off as the remnants of jet lag, he picked up the file he'd been reviewing when Perry showed up. Settling back to read, he couldn't help the final thought about the other agent that passed through his mind.

_There's definitely something not quite right with that guy… _

> > > > > > > >

The pile of folders and reports that needed reading had slowly gotten smaller as the day ticked by into the early evening. The large sitting room of the safe house had grown quiet over the past few hours, as many of the occupants had either retired to their assigned rooms or gathered in the dining room to socialize.

MacGyver still occupied the floral print couch, chewing on his pencil's eraser as he studied the report in front of him. As the hours wore on, he'd found his concentration to be waning, his body slowly demanding more and more of his attention. He had one arm absently wrapped around his now slightly queasy stomach, and his vision kept blurring from the ebbing throb in his head.

"Find anything yet?" Peter Thornton asked as he bustled into the room.

Mac dropped his head onto the back of the couch to see who had entered. "Hey, Pete. Nope, nothing worth mentioning anyway. You?"

"They found another victim," he replied, perching himself on the edge of a chair. "It was a key prosecution witness to the case. He was out walking his dog when a nearby mailbox exploded."

"Is he all right?"

"He needed a few stitches, but otherwise he's just shaken up. His dog ran off though. He's refusing to come to the safe house until she's found. I've got a few guys out helping him look right now," Pete sighed. "Honestly, Mac, I just don't see how things could get much worse at this point."

The troubleshooter nodded, the movement causing a sharp pain to drive through is midsection.

Thornton saw him wince. "You okay? You look a little pale."

Mac nodded again, this time more carefully. "Yeah, I think the jet lag has gotten the better of me. Or maybe it was that salad I had on the flight. I just need a few hours sleep."

His friend smiled. "Well, you're welcome to stay here. I can put you up in a private room…"

"Pete, we've been through this before," Mac said firmly. "I want nothing more than a hot shower, my _own_ bed, and some quiet."

"There's just no convincing you, is there?"

"Nope."

The topic clearly closed, Pete moved on. "How'd your meeting with Perry go?"

MacGyver shrugged as he stood, collecting a small handful of files to read at home. "All right, I guess."

"I know you've only had a chance to speak with him a few times on the phone before this, but, what did you think of him?"

He hesitated. "…Well, he's…um…just a little…"

"Eccentric?" Pete offered.

"Yeah."

"That's what I thought too. He seems to know his stuff though."

Mac nodded and covered a yawn with his hand. "Excuse me. Listen, do you mind if I head out? Do you need a lift back?"

"You go on ahead. I'm going to stick around awhile and see if they bring that witness in. I'll catch a ride back with someone else."

"Sounds good to me," he replied, making his way towards the door.

"Listen, I have a meeting with the police chief tomorrow afternoon and I'd like you to be there."

Mac stopped with his hand on the doorknob. "The police? I thought the Foundation was handing this?"

"We are, but since several of his officers have been involved, the chief insists on coordinating our efforts to catch the killer. I just want to make sure we're all on the same page. You know, the whole "left hand knowing what the right foot is doing" sort of thing," Thornton explained.

"You got it. What time do you want me?"

"Would you mind coming in at eight? I'd like to compare our notes before we go just to be sure _we're_ on the right page, if you know what I mean."

"Eight it is. G'night, Pete," Mac said as he stepped out into the cool night air.

"Have a good night, MacGyver. Get some rest and feel better," his boss called. Smiling at the casual wave his partner gave, Pete stepped back into the safe house and shut the heavy door behind him, turning back to the small window just in time catch the red taillights of Mac's jeep fading into the night.

> > > > > > > >

It was about 9:30 when MacGyver finally settled down at his kitchen's bar, intending to do a little more reading before he went to bed. He'd spent the last half hour in the shower, although even the hottest water his furnace could produce did nothing to ward off the chills that had developed on his way home. Now, somewhat comfortable in plaid flannel pants and a well-worn sweatshirt, he tried to direct his attention towards the words in front of him.

"To avenge the one who stole my glory. No one is safe. The serpent has awoken. He is hunting."

His mind drifting, Mac envisioned a tangled knot of cold, writhing, snakes, their angered hisses almost deafening. Shuddering, he reached for the bottle of juice he had on the counter and pulled off the top. Before taking a drink, he pressed the icy glass against his forehead, relishing in the coolness of it against his skin.

_Damn jet lag…_ he thought, lowering the bottle to his lips. As the sickeningly sweet scent of orange juice filled his nose, Mac felt his stomach lurch in protest and the bitter taste of bile began to creep up into his mouth. _Okay…maybe this isn't jet lag…_

Unable to fight back the powerful waves of nausea any longer, Mac slammed the bottle back to the table and bolted up the spiral stairs to his bathroom.

> > > > > > > >

"I can't believe he's late!" Pete Thornton exclaimed as he turned from the large office window and sat down in his chair.

Nikki Carpenter idly checked her watch. "It's only 8:10."

Pete tapped his finger nervously against the leather blotter on his desk. "I knew I shouldn't have let him leave the safe house last night. I knew it…"

Nikki sighed as she stood from her chair and tugged a wrinkle from her dark green dress pants. "Pete, I'm sure he's just stuck in traffic, or maybe he overslept. You said yourself he was tired. This is MacGyver we're talking about – he'll be here."

Her words doing nothing to reassure him, Thornton picked up the phone and began dialing.

"Now what are you doing?"

"Calling him."

Shaking her head, Nikki folded her arms in front of herself and watched as he placed the call.

Fiddling with the phone cord, the frown on his face deepened when his friend's answering machine picks up the line.

"That's odd…" Pete muttered, ending the call before punching in another number. When there was no answer at the other end, he replaced the receiver before turning to the woman standing before him.

"Well?"

"There's no answer at his place or his jeep. I don't like this. I'm going to check on him."

"Pete, wait," the pretty agent began, not believing what she was about to offer. "You have a briefing to prepare for, right? Why don't _I_ go check on him?"

Relief befell the husky man's face. "You sure?"

"Yeah," she replied, taking her jacket from around the back of the chair. "A chance to catch Mac off guard and in his PJs – I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Thank you, Nikki," he called, as he watched his associate leave his office. "I think…"

> > > > > > > >

Nikki sucked in a deep breath of the clean, salty air as she made her way towards MacGyver's houseboat, feeling slightly envious that he lived in such a unique location. She had seen his jeep in the parking lot on her way in, and was now more certain than ever that her colleague had overslept, something she wasn't about to let him live down.

Arriving at his front door, she knelt and picked up the morning paper that lay propped against the wall before raising her fist to knock. As she prepared to make contact with the door, a small slip of paper tacked to the frame caught her attention. Tucking the newspaper under her arm, she reached up and pulled the slip down, curious to what it said: 'Serpent's bane: C2-03-87.'

Stumped at its significance, she carefully deposited the note into her pocket before banging loudly against the glass window of the door. "Mac! Open up! It's Nikki!"

She waited a minute or two before knocking again, only louder. When there was still no answer, she dug into her handbag and fumbled around for the key she knew she had in there somewhere. After locating and using the key, Nikki quietly let herself into the small houseboat, shutting the door behind her.

"MacGyver? You home?" she called, looking around the cluttered kitchen for signs of her friend. Spotting the piles of folders and opened bottle of orange juice on the bar top, she felt a slight pang of worry run through her mind.

Where was he?

Not finding him anywhere in the kitchen or small den, Nikki made her way over to the spiral staircase and looked up. "Mac?"

Quietly climbing the creaky steps, she paused on the landing at the top, allowing her eyes time to adjust in the dim lighting. As she stood, she couldn't help but wrinkle her nose against a sour odor that hung in the unmoving air. "MacGyver?"

Once accustomed to the darkness, she slowly made her way over to the large bed at the other end of the room. As she drew in closer, she spotted a human sized lump buried beneath a pile of blankets. "Mac?"

Unable to suppress the wry grin that suddenly formed on her lips, Nikki tiptoed silently over to the side of the bed, ready for the opportunity to harass her friend about oversleeping. "You know, MacGyver, Pete is going to be none too happy to hear you blew him off for a few extra minutes of sleep."

When there was no response, she reached out and gave the form under the covers a firm shake, fully expecting him to stir at her touch. It was only when he didn't that the agent's wide, anticipating smile began to fade, as it became clear something was wrong.

"Mac?" she called, allowing an edge of worry to creep into her voice as she pulled back the blankets.

Curled up on his side, her colleague lay with his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach, his entire body trembling.

"MacGyver? What's wrong?" Nikki asked, noticing the fine sheen of sweat on his face. Carefully, she reached out and rested a hand against his forehead, startled by the heat she found. "My god…you're burning up…"

Turning to locate his phone, she found herself nearly tripping over a small bucket on the floor behind her. Inside, she discovered the source of the unpleasant smell and had to bite her lip to keep from becoming physically sick herself. With a shaky sigh, Nikki made her way to the dresser and picked up the phone, dialing the first and only number that came to mind.

"Pete? It's Nikki. You've got to get over here right now. It's MacGyver – he's really sick."

> > > > > > > >

About 20 minutes later, Pete came pounding up the stairs and into the small bedroom, anxious and out of breath. He'd left the Foundation as soon as the call came in, explaining to Helen he had forgotten some notes for the meeting at home. Steadying himself on the landing with the rope handrail, he looked over at the bed where Nikki sat wringing the water from a small cloth.

"What's wrong? How is he?" he demanded, although the look of apprehension on her face told him all was not well.

"He's a little dazed," she replied, wiping the cloth against Mac's forehead. She'd finally managed to coax him over onto his back, although he seemed to be struggling to stay awake. "He's running a pretty high fever and it looks like he's been throwing up all night."

"What's going on, Mac?" he asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"I don't think this is jet lag anymore, Pete," the man replied, his voice catching against his raw throat.

"How're you feeling?"

"Miserable."

"It took me nearly 10 minutes to get him to wake up," Nikki said, tugging open the room's small window to allow in some fresh air and sunlight.

"It's just the flu. Probably something I picked up at the airport or on the plane. Nothing I can't sleep off..." Mac's comment ending in a groan as his stomach flared in pain.

"I think it's more than that," Pete uttered.

"Food poisoning than. It's nothing to worry about," he muttered, shutting his eyes as a strong wave of nausea washed over him. Taking a deep, shaky breath, he swallowed hard against the acrid bile that had begun to rise in his throat. The effort wasn't enough. "Pete, I-I think I'm going to be..."

Realizing what was about to happen, Pete brought the bucket forward and helped him to sit up, supporting his weight as the painful coughing and heaving began.

The large man shook his head and frowned sympathetically. "My god, Mac…"

"Easy," Nikki soothed, rubbing his back as she shot her boss an anxious look. Several minutes lapsed before the spell finally passed, leaving the troubleshooter shaking with exhaustion.

"Okay?" Pete asked as he helped him lay back down.

Mac groaned and he covered his eyes with his arm.

Standing up with a sigh, Nikki found her heart aching for the man she made an effort to argue with about every little thing. Granted it was a mutual game they played, she still couldn't help but think maybe she'd been too hard on him recently. Pushing her ruminations aside, she took the used bucket under her arm and headed for the stairs. "Do you mind staying with him? I'm going to get him something to drink."

He nodded and took a seat at the edge of the bed once again. Unsure what to say or do that could possibly help; Pete simply sat quietly in hopes that his presence offered at least some consolation to his ailing friend.

MacGyver seemed to be sleeping, his eyes closed and breathing slowed. His tall form still trembled slightly under the pile of blankets, and his ghostly white face was pinched with pain. Pete knew it was unusual for the young man to get sick. Sure, he'd picked up the occasional cold, but never in all the years that they'd known each other could he recall seeing him this ill.

_It certainly could have come form the airport or the flight itself… It just happened so suddenly,"_ Thornton mused, losing himself in his thoughts. _But with everything that's been going on around here lately… no… there's no way this could be related to…_

"Pete?"

"I'm here."

"Sorry you had to see that," Mac muttered quietly, embarrassment evident in his low voice.

"Don't worry about it, Mac," Pete said with a reassuring smile. "You going to be okay?"

"Yeah. I just don't think I'm going to make the meeting today…"

"The only place you should be going is to see a doctor," Nikki said as she approached the bed, a glass of water in her hands. "Here. Try to drink some of this."

"I'm not going anywhere," Mac uttered, eyeing the water warily. "And no thanks."

"MacGyver, you're dehydrated. Now _drink_," her words coming through clenched teeth.

Slightly startled by the determination in the woman's voice and dark eyes, he accepted the glass and took a few sips, the cool liquid only adding fuel to the burning sensation that had taken a hold of his stomach.

"When did this all start?" Pete asked.

"Last night. After I got back from the safe house."

"You should have called me…"

"I'm a big boy, Pete. I can take care of myself."

A soft snort came from beside him. "That's up for debate."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Nikki."

"What are friends for?" she replied with a smile.

"So, any new developments with the case?" Mac asked, shifting around until he was lying on his side.

"Not a whole lot. The witness that I was telling you about last night was finally brought in with his dog. I guess they found her cowering under a dumpster down off of…"

Shutting his eyes against the morning light that was streaming through the room's window, MacGyver soon found his attention beginning to wane. His stomach was hurting again, the dull ache of before replaced by a steady throb. His heart was hammering wildly against his aching chest, the pounding echoing between his ears.

"…But Perry seems to think we're getting closer to finding…" his words dropping off when he noticed the man beside him was not paying attention. Aside from his obviously pained expression, Pete noticed his friend was sweating again and breathing harder than normal. "I think something's wrong. MacGyver?"

"It's just a little pain…" Mac uttered, bringing his knees to his chest as the pain in his middle became excruciating. "…Oh, god…"

Having seen enough, Pete dug into his pocket and fished out his keys. "Nikki, go bring my car around. Hurry."

"What? Why?" She asked, catching the heavy key chain in midair and heading for the stairs.

"I'm taking him to the hospital."

Hearing this, Mac turned his face into the pillows and groaned.

"Come on," he urged as he took the covers off his colleague and helped him to sit up.

"Pete, I just need to sleep," Mac protested, the room spinning wildly as he became upright. Accepting the blanket that was wrapped around his trembling shoulders, he allowed himself to be tugged to his feet. "It's the flu."

"I'm sure it is," Pete agreed, supporting as much of his weight as he could. "But let's just make sure, okay? For me?"

Looking up at his boss's worried expression and pleading eyes, Mac conceded. "Fine."

"Good. Now let's go. Nikki's waiting for us," Pete said as he began the slow, tedious process of helping his weakened friend down the stairs.

> > > > > > > >

Over two hours later, Nikki found herself seated in a doctor's private office, watching as her boss paced nervously around the small, cluttered room. The office's owner, Dr. Greg Fuller, had been assigned by the Phoenix Foundation to oversee all medical cases that had occurred over the past week. He had greeted them upon their arrival, and, after taking one look at MacGyver, admitted him immediately to the emergency room.

"Pete, will you please sit down?" Nikki pleaded, loudly setting down the paperweight she'd been playing with. "You're going to make _me_ sick!"

Pete sighed and dropped heavily into a leather-backed chair. "I'm sorry. I'm just worried. MacGyver never gets sick. I mean, what if this…"

His thoughts were interrupted when the door opened, and the tall, middle aged, gray haired doctor stepped in.

"Hello, Peter, Ms Carpenter. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting for so long," he said, depositing the armload of files he held on his desk.

Pete wasted no time getting to the point. "How's MacGyver?"

Fuller sighed and dropped down into his chair. "He's a very sick man."

"We gathered that much," Nikki replied with no attempt to hide her sarcasm.

The doctor gave her an empathetic smile. "We've made him as comfortable as possible, but aside from that, I'm afraid there's not much I can do for him right now."

"What? Mac said he just has the flu – something he picked up at the airport," Pete insisted.

"It's no flu."

He tipped his head. "Something he ate then?"

Fuller hesitated, clasping his hands together and resting them on his desk. "I'm sorry, Peter, but MacGyver's been poisoned."

_"What_!" the two Phoenix employees exclaimed simultaneously.

"Poisoned?" Pete uttered, shock evident on his face. "How? With what? By who?"

"I'm afraid I don't have the answers to any of those questions right now. All I can tell you is that there was an unidentified substance found in his lab work, and I have my best people working on trying to ID it as we speak. Until we know for sure what it is, I can only treat the symptoms as they develop."

Nikki swallowed hard. "Could this be linked to the case we're working on? Is it like any of the other poisonings?"

"Seeing as he did participate in the Hoff's case _and_ is now involved with the investigation, I'd have to say the possibilities are quite high. However, the similarities stop there. The other poisons we've seen used were much simpler and quite easily identified: Arsenic, cyanide, strychnine, potassium... Whatever was given to MacGyver is proving to be exceedingly more powerful and cause more acute symptoms."

"Like a chemical weapon?" Pete asked, an idea striking him.

Fuller shrugged in thought. "Yeah. Possibly."

Thornton sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily. "Terrific. That means we _didn't_ destroy Hoff's entire stash. Do you realize what could happen if this guy decides to start terrorizing the public? Forget our "accidents." Those chemical weapons could…"

Nikki shook her head and held up a hand to cut off his ranting. "Pete! Please! We don't even know if this did in fact _come_ from Hoff's collection. Shouldn't we at least wait to see what we're up against before we start damning everyone?"

"She's right, Peter."

"I know, I know. I'm just…" he sighed again and hung his head. "Can we see Mac now?"

"Certainly. I'm sure he'd appreciate the company," the doctor said as he stood from his desk. "I've admitted him to the ICU because his condition warrants the extra care and supervision. Shall we go?"

"Please," Nikki uttered quietly, as she followed the two men out of the small office and into the brightly lit halls.

> > > > > > > >

As the large, canary yellow doors of the elevator slid open, the small group of people stepped out into the hushed corridor of the ICU.

"Serpent's bane: C2-03-87. Nikki, how could you forget about something like this?" Pete demanded, holding the slip of paper that she had found earlier tacked to MacGyver's front door.

Nikki crossed her arms defensively. "I'm sorry. Everything just happened so fast…"

The doctor came up behind them. "What is it?"

"I don't know. It almost looks like a version of coding we use in our forensic lab," Pete muttered, his brow wrinkling when Fuller pulled a face. "What?"

"What?"

"That face. What was it for?"

Fuller sighed and motioned for them to stop as they approached a closed door. "Peter, have you ever considered that this could be an inside job?"

"An inside job? You mean someone from the Foundation is doing this? That's impossible!"

"Is it?" the doctor asked, turning to Nikki. "Didn't you say that Hoff specialized in chemical weapons that primarily attacked the nervous system?"

"Yeah. The whole warehouse we raided was full of them."  
He had Pete's interest now. "Why?"

"Well, whatever's making Mac sick isn't a neurotoxin. Yes, it has some of the same properties, but affecting the nervous system certainly isn't its first line of attack."

"So…?"

A small grin spread across Nikki's face as she understood where he was headed. "So, that means it's even less likely to have come from Hoff's stash."

"Then where else could it have come from?"

"Look, I don't know all of the things that go on inside the Phoenix Foundation, but I do know you folks have an extensive collection of some pretty nasty drugs and chemicals at your disposal. I also know you have a list of enemies rivaling that of the US government who would just love to get their hands on some of them. And, after seeing the contents of that note, can you honestly tell me you're not at least a _little_ suspicious?"

Pete's face had turned red at the accusation, but it had gotten him thinking.

"It's just a thought, Peter."

The large man's jaw was set. "Well, you're wrong."

"Hope so," Fuller uttered as he reached for the doorknob. "Okay, I want to warn you that he's going to be a little out of it. In addition to the pain and nausea medications, we've got him on a light sedative to help him relax. You ready?"

The two colleagues nodded and followed the doctor into the room, entering slowly to allow their eyes to adjust to the dim lighting.

As they approached the room's only bed, Nikki couldn't help but grimace. "He looks worse than when I found him."

MacGyver appeared to be asleep, a frown of uneasiness stamped on his face. His skin was horribly pale against the stark white bedding, giving him an almost ghostly appearance. Numerous pieces of monitoring equipment flanked the single bed, their mechanical sounds breaking the room's silence. Several bags of fluid hung from hooks overhead, their contents dripping rapidly towards the IVs that were set into his left arm below.

"He's severely dehydrated and running a fairly high temperature in response to the poison," Fuller explained, taking the time to check the numbers the monitors were displaying.

Pete stepped forward and gently squeezed his friend's arm. "Mac? You awake?"

Slowly he stirred, grinning slightly when he saw who was there. "Hey."

"How you doing?"

"Swell."

"How's the pain, Mac?" the doctor asked, recalling the distress he'd been in upon arrival.

The troubleshooter shrugged. "Not too bad."

"Good. That's what we want to hear." As low beeping abruptly filled the room, Fuller pulled back his work coat to check the beeper at his hip. "If you'll excuse me. I need to answer this."

"Sure," Pete said, watching as he left the room. Once alone, he returned his attention to his friend. "So, how much have they told you?"

"About that I've been poisoned or that they don't know with what yet?" Mac answered, surprising them both.

"Well, I guess we don't have to tiptoe around that topic," Nikki uttered, taking a seat on the edge of his bed.

Pete put on his most determined look. "We're going to find out what this is _and_ who did it. You just need to hang in there."

"Great. What can I do to help?"

Nikki smiled. "Rest, relax, and do whatever the doctors tell you to do."

"Yes, ma'am," Mac replied, shutting his eyes as his energy levels began to fade.

Letting the room fall into silence, Pete took a seat beside his colleague and glanced at his watch. "Aw, damn it…"

Nikki looked up at his outburst. "What?"

"The briefing with the police chief starts in a few hours. I don't even have all my notes together yet."

She stood up and beckoned her boss towards the back of the room. "Look, it's obvious you're worried about Mac. Why don't you stay here?"

"Oh, believe me, I really want to. But I can't miss this…"

"Then I'll go."

"What? You?"

"Sure. I mean we have been working on this together."

Pete seemed to consider the offer before shaking his head. "Oh, Nikki, I can't ask that of you."

She took his arm. "You're not asking, I'm offering. Besides, what Mac needs right now is a friend. I think you're more qualified for that than I am."

"Nikki…"

"I'll go pick up your notes and then go to the briefing. I'll come back here when I'm done."

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

"No problem," she replied, looking over her shoulder to Mac. "Take care of him for me, will you?"

"Of course," he said with a grin. As he watched her turn to leave, a thought struck him. "Oh, Nikki…will you do me one favor?"

"Sure."

"Don't mention this to anyone at the Foundation yet. Just in case we do have…well, you know…"

"Right."

"Good luck."

He gave a small wave as he watched her leave before turning to check on his friend. He appeared to have fallen back asleep, his eyes closed and body still. Deciding to let him rest, Pete sighed and headed for the door.

"Pete?"

"Yeah, Mac?"

"Um – Would you mind…? I mean… I'd like it if you… You can stay if you want…"

It didn't take Pete long to decipher what his partner was trying to ask. "Are you sure I won't keep you awake?"

The reply was instant. "Positive."

"Okay. Let me grab a paper and I'll be right back."

Mac nodded and let his eyes drift shut again, relieved that he didn't have to go through the ordeal alone.

> > > > > > > >

A short time later, Nikki was slowly making her way through the halls of the Phoenix Foundation, trying not to look guilty of hiding something as she headed for Pete's office. She couldn't help but notice that everyone she walked by seemed to offer her a sympathetic smile – something, she told herself, must have been her imagination. That is until an agent she knew from environmental stopped her.

"Nikki, I'm so sorry to hear about MacGyver. Is he all right?" the man asked, concern written all over his face.

Taken aback for a moment, she was unsure how to answer. "Umm…he's doing as good as can be expected…"

"That's good. Please tell him he's in my thoughts," the agent said and was on his way once again.

_Okay, now _that_ was odd…_ Nikki thought to herself. _I haven't told anyone about Mac and neither has Pete…_

"Ms Carpenter," a woman seated behind a large desk called to her from across a row of cubicles. "Please give my regards to MacGyver. I hope he gets well very soon."

"I'll do that, thank you," Nikki uttered, forcing herself to smile kindly at the woman as she walked by her desk.

_Yup – something is definitely going on here…_ she thought, pushing open the lobby door to Pete's office. No sooner had she stepped into the spacious room did Helen, his secretary, spring from her seat and rush to greet her.

"Hello, Nikki! How's Mr. MacGyver doing? I heard the horrible news! Do you think it's at all related to the Hoff's case?"

She pasted her fake smile on again. "Well, we really haven't looked into it yet… are Pete's notes in his office? I need them."

"Yes they are, dear," Helen replied, brushing past her to open the door. Entering the glassed off office, Nikki approached his desk and began to rummage around the vast amounts of paperwork for the information pertinent to the case.

"Is MacGyver really going to be okay? You can tell me. I mean just the thought of being poisoned…it's so…"

She couldn't hide the flabbergasted look that crossed her face as she looked up from the files. "Helen, where did you hear that Mac was poisoned?"

The secretary thought for a moment. "Roberta, a secretary down in the Research lab. She heard it from her boss, who heard it from…well, I guess it's fair to say that the news is all over the building by now!"

Nikki nodded slowly and picked up the armload of files that she'd located. "Thank you, Helen. You've been a great help."

"Do wish him well for me."

She stopped and looked at the sincerely concerned woman standing in front of her. "I will."

With that, Nikki turned and left the building, refusing to look at anyone else on her way out.

> > > > > > > >

As the day passed into late afternoon, not much change had come about in the small ICU room at the Memorial Hospital. Both men were sleeping; MacGyver curled up on his side on the bed and Pete sprawled in a chair beside it. Snoring softly, the Phoenix director hadn't left the room for a minute, his newspaper now scattered all over the floor where it had slipped out of his hands.

Neither awoke when the door opened and Nikki stepped inside, a look of apprehension on her face. Quietly making her way across the room, she reached out and gently poked her boss's arm to wake him up.

"Pete?"

"Hmmm?" the man grunted, stirring slightly at his name.

"Pete. Wake up!" she whispered harshly.

"Oh, Nikki…" Pete uttered loudly as he sat up, taking a moment to remember where he was. "How did…?"

"Shh!" she hissed, stealing a look over her shoulder to be sure he hadn't disturbed Mac any.

He immediately lowered his voice. "Oh! Right! Nikki, what's up?"

Sighing, she gestured for him to follow her into the hall where they could talk more freely. Once out in the brighter light of the virtually deserted waiting area, Pete noticed his colleague's pallid face.

"Nikki, what's the matter? It looks like you've seen a ghost."

"You're certain you didn't tell anyone about Mac being sick, right?"

"Yes. You?"

"Yes!" she snapped, slightly offended.

Pete held up his hands in apology. "All right, all right. Just asking. So tell me what's wrong."

"Before the briefing, I swung by the Foundation to get your notes like I said I was going to. On my way to your office, I was stopped by several people who said they were sorry to hear about MacGyver being ill."

Now it was his turn to go pale. "What?"

"That's not the worst of it. When I got to your office, Helen approached me about it too. Pete, she knew he'd been poisoned. She said she'd heard it from another secretary in the research labs."

Her boss rubbed his face wearily. "Oh god. Do you know what this means?"

"Yeah -- That Dr. Fuller was right. This very well _could be_ an inside job."

"And I thought things couldn't get any worse," he uttered, heaving a sigh. "All right, how did the briefing go?"

"It went okay. The Chief agreed to let the Foundation handle the brunt of the investigation as long as we agree to keep his department apprised on the situation."

"Good. And thank you again for covering that meeting. It saved me a lot of grief."

"No problem," she replied. "How's Mac holding out?"

"He's been asleep the entire time. Poor kid. Between the drugs Fuller is giving him and sheer exhaustion, it's about all he can do."

"I can imagine."

"Listen, Nikki," Pete began, shifting nervously in the hard, plastic seat. "I know I've asked a lot of you already, but I've been thinking about that note you found, and there's something I want to check out at the Foundation. Fuller's agreed to break ICU protocol and allow one of us to be in with Mac at all times because of the security risk. Would you mind…?"

"…Staying with him? Not at all. Go do what you need to," she finished for him.

Pete stood and offered her a hand to help her stand up. "Thank you. I'll call if anything develops, but I'm praying this feeling I have is just paranoia. And if anything changes here…"

She smiled knowingly. "You'll be the first to know. And Pete, be careful. That guy's still out there."

"Yeah, I know," he uttered, as he turned and headed for the elevators. _And he won't be for much longer if I have my way about it…_

> > > > > > > >

Pete sighed as he made his way down the long halls of the Foundation's forensic department, enjoying the stillness of the late afternoon. He was feeling guilty about leaving his best friend back at the hospital, even though he knew Mac wouldn't be alone as long as Nikki was there.

_I just wish there was more I could do…_ he thought, stopping in front of a door with the name "T. Matthews" printed in black across the glass. Shaking his head, Pete knocked before pushing the door open and entering the small office.

"Mr. Thornton, right on time," a young man said, standing from behind a very neat desk and extending his hand. Tracey Matthews, the Foundation's chief director of forensic sciences, could be categorized as a classic nerd. The man stood a meager 5'5" and was as skinny as a pole. His light blonde hair was always neatly trimmed, his neutral toned clothes always pressed, and his black leather dress shoes always shined. He wore thick glasses that magnified his eyes slightly, and his nasally voice made him sound like he always had a cold. However, despite the scientist's stereotypical appearance, he new his stuff well, and was one of the nicest people that Pete had ever had the pleasure of working with.

"Trace, glad you could squeeze me in on such short notice. I know you're a busy guy these days."

"If you only knew, sir," Trace said with a toothy smile. "How is Mr. MacGyver doing? I heard he was targeted by our mystery suspect with a powerful poison."

"Now where did you hear a thing like that?" Pete asked, trying to inject as much disbelief into his voice as possible.

"One of my assistants told me, sir. Is this not correct?"

Pete sighed, deciding that if there was anyone he could trust, it was the petit man in front of him. Trace, as of right now, anything we discuss is on a strictly need to know basis. Understood?"

The expert bobbed his head eagerly. "Yes, sir."

"The rumor you heard is correct, MacGyver is very sick. Whatever he's been poisoned with has yet to be identified, and the doctors can't help him until they know what they're dealing with. Now Greg Fuller, the physician that's been in charge of all of our casualties – including Mac – believes that we could possibly be dealing with an insider."

"An insider? As in one of us? A Phoenix employee?"

Pete nodded almost sadly. "I know. It's hard to accept."

Trace's mouth hung open for a moment in thought. "But why would anyone…?"  
"I don't know," the director admitted with a sigh. "But I _do_ know that it has to stop, preferably before someone else gets hurt, or worse. And that's why I'm here. I need your help."

Trace beamed. "Anything you want, Mr. Thornton."

"Good, I knew I could count on you," Pete said, digging into his pocket and pulling out the note that Nikki had given him earlier. "Now, what can you make of this?"

"Serpent's bane: C2-03-87. That looks an awful lot like the way we catalog the specimens in our bio/chemical lockup."

"I was afraid you'd say that," Pete muttered, running a hand over his balding head. "Can you find out what it represents?"

"Of course. We can go directly into the lockup if you wish."

"Sure."

Trace nodded and removed a keycard from his lab coat pocket, running it through a reader under his desk. Motioning for his guest to follow, he wandered over to the heavy door at the other end of his office.

"This is were we store the most volatile samples that are collected by agents out on missions. There're only a dozen or so people who have access to this room, and even then they have to clear their activities with me prior to entry. It's frightening to think that if some of these substances ever got out into the public…"

"It would be a disaster, I know."

"I can initiate a code change as soon as we're done, if you'd like, sir," he offered, the door hissing as the locked released. "Just to be on the safe side."

"Yeah, good idea. Do it."

The short man took a hold of the recessed handle and gave a sharp tug. "Just as a safety precaution, sir, I'd ask you not to touch anything without asking me first. We have stuff in here that the CDC doesn't even "officially" know about."

"Right…" Pete uttered, suddenly feeling nervous about entering.

With a reassuring smile from Trace, he slowly stepped into bio/chemical lockup and looked around. The room was more like an oversized walk-in closest than a room, roughly 20x20, with heavy-duty cabinets and coolers lining the walls. The overhead lights were unnaturally bright, the glare from the vast amounts of lab equipment almost unbearable. Several large computers occupied one table, while some sort of microscope covered another.

"And no one can get in here without you knowing?"

"No, sir," Trace replied, locking the door behind them. "The chances of that happening are exceedingly remote. The room can't even be accessed unless I'm here to put in the master code first."

"Right."

"Over here is where our main data system is kept," he continued, heading towards the room's largest computer. "It contains everything we know about each of the samples, including how much we currently have in our possession. I'll input the code you gave me and we'll see what happens."

Pete stood back and watched the expert work, the screen flashing several times as he keyed in the commands. After several moments of searching, the computer displayed a map of Columbia and numerous boxes of text.

"Here we go: The material's designation is C2-03-87, which refers to the Country (Columbia), region (two), month (March), and the year (1987) it was discovered," Trace reported, as he scanned the information in front of him. "Huh – I'd nearly forgotten about this one. It's a whooper. Killed a significant number of Columbian field workers a few years back."

He turned from the computer and headed to one of the locked cabinets along the wall. After entering a lengthy string of numbers into the keypad, he pulled open the heavy doors to reveal over a hundred small drawers, each neatly labels with their contents.

"Holy…" Pete breathed, seeing the vast array of items they had in storage. "I had no idea there was so much…"

Trace smiled. "Your agents have done a lot of work, Mr. Thornton. They bring back all kinds of goodies for my staff to examine."

With startling ease, the short man located the correct drawer and removed it from the shelf, revealing two tiny glass vials nested inside.

Pete swallowed nervously. "Is that wise, Trace?"

"Yes, sir. It's quite innocuous in this state. Agents brought it back after they discovered a Columbian drug lord was using it as an incentive to prevent his workers from revolting. Apparently he had contaminated an entire village's water supply with the drug, killing over 5,000 people. Upon analysis, we discovered it to be a carefully crafted toxin, comprised of several different species of plants found around South America. We suspect it originally came from the native people, and was later chemically modified to suit the drug lord's specific needs."

"And you're sure it's all there and accounted for?"

"Let's see." Carrying the small drawer back to the computer, Trace keyed in a few commands to bring up the inventory information. "Uh-oh."

Thornton cocked an eyebrow. "Uh-oh? Uh-oh? Trace, you've got to give me more than an 'uh-oh' here. What's wrong?"

"According to the records, we're supposed to have three vials of C2-03-87. I only have two here."

The room fell silent for a beat. "Well – couldn't your records be wrong somehow?"

"No, sir. Each month we do a thorough physical inventory and cross check it three times. The third vial could have only recently been taken."

"But you said that wasn't possible without _you_ knowing about."

"Mr. Thornton, I assure you, I have no idea how this happened," he stammered, a look of total bewilderment on the younger man's face.

"Is anything else missing?"

"I-I don't know, sir. I'd have to do a complete physical inventory to be sure."

"Then do so immediately."

"Yes, sir, right away."

Pete puffed out a frustrated sigh as he watched Trace rush about the lab, making preparations to run the impromptu inventory.

What if this is what's making Mac so sick? Trace just said it killed thousands… 

"Trace, can you print me off everything you have about this stuff? It's history, symptoms,

treatments… everything."

The man shrugged. "That shouldn't be a problem."

"Good. Have it sent directly to my office the moment you have it."

"Certainly, sir," Trace said as he entered his code into the heavy door to allow his guest

out of the room.

As he left, Pete looked up at the security camera mounted on the wall. "And I also want the security footage of this room brought up from storage. Give me all you've got since your last inventory."

"Are you thinking that the C2-04-87 is what was used to make Mr. MacGyver sick?"

Pete shrugged as he stepped from the small room. "For MacGyver's sake, I hope not, but that note was left for a reason. And I fully intend on finding out why."

> > > > > > > >

Several hours later found Pete diligently at work in his office, the mere five pages of research Trace had provided him scattered across his desk. Staring intently at the text before him, the director anxiously searched the words in hopes of finding a way to help his friend. It was when his search came up empty after reading through the data three times, that he could feel his hopes rapidly becoming desperation.

With a sigh, Pete looked at his watch and then over to the phone. He hadn't heard from Nikki since he'd left her at the hospital with MacGyver, something that, he supposed, was a good thing. It was about half past six, the golden Californian sun just beginning to set outside his office windows, a spectacle he would normally embrace after a hard day's work. Tonight, however, he was far too concerned with the welfare of his best friend to be enjoying anything, no matter how beautiful it was.

Unable to restrain himself from checking up on his agents any longer, one of Pete's hands lifted the phone's receiver to his ear, while the other dialed the local general.

"Yes, ICU 4, please," he told the operator, frowning at the tacky elevator music that played when she put him on hold. While waiting, he turned his attention to the 3-foot high stack of VHS tapes brought up from the security room for him to review. It was a daunting task he wasn't looking forward to. Moments later, a familiar voice came on the line.

_"Hello?"_

"Nikki, it's Pete."

_"Hey, Pete. I was starting to wonder if you'd gotten lost."_

"No, I've just been doing some detective work on my own. How's our boy holding up?" he asked, absently tracing his finger along the desk's blotter.

_"He's still asleep. Seems whatever Fuller gave him has done the trick for now. He hasn't woken up in hours."_

"That's good. Listen, Nikki…" He stopped, hesitating.

"What's going on, Pete?" 

"I think Greg might be right about this whole thing being an inside job."

"What?" 

"I had Tracey Matthews – you're familiar with him, right?"

"_Yeah, he's that geek in charge of the forensics lab, isn't he?"_

Pete cringed at her blunt, although honest, choice of words. "Yeah – anyway, I showed him the note you found and he immediately recognized the format. He took me into the bio/chemical lockup to reference the number and we found out that a vial of the chemical it refers to is missing."

There was silence on the other end.

"Nikki?"

"Oh my god…" 

"For the past few hours I've been reading over the information Trace has on the stuff, and from what I've learned so far, it looks like this might be the one. It comes from Columbia and is…" he paused when there was a knock at his door. "Hold on a second, Nikki. Come in."

The door opened and Trace stepped him, the expression on his youthful face grim.

"Mr. Thornton, I've just finished the preliminary inventory and I thought you should know that the vial of C2-03-87 is the only sample unaccounted for," he reported, his hands clasped nervously behind him.

"Good work, Trace. And thank you for doing it so quickly," Pete said with an approving nod. "Listen, I know it's getting late, but could you do me one more favor?"

"Certainly, sir."

"Is there any way to find out who accessed the C2-03-87 file last?"

The expert thought for a moment. "Yes, sir. It'll take a bit of time to go back through the records, but I believe I can find that information for you."

"That would be most helpful."

Trace bobbed his head and turned to leave, but paused with his hand on the knob. "Mr. Thornton, if you're interested, I'd be willing to take a look at the lab results for Mr. MacGyver. Perhaps I can determine a little easier than the hospital staff what he has been poisoned with."

"Good idea. I'll have the records faxed to your office. Thanks, Trace."

The young man tipped his head before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him.

Feeling slightly relieved there was nothing else missing from the lockup, Pete turned his attention back to the phone. "Nikki, did you get all that?"

_"Yeah, I'll see what I can do about rustling up those lab reports and send them your way." _

"Thanks, Nikki. Oh listen, if Mac should happen to wake up, tell him I'll be in just as soon as I finish up here. And let him know that everyone at the Foundation is pulling for him."

_"Sounds good, Pete. I'll get those records out to you shortly."_

"Great, I'll see you in a bit."

Setting the receiver back on its cradle, the director shook his head as he looked at the chemical data sheets and the notes he'd scribbled in the margins. When a solution to his problems didn't jump out at him, he slammed his fist against the table in frustration and spun his chair around to face the windows. Hoping to catch at least the tale end of the sunset, something he knew would put his mind at ease; he was disappointed to find the golden globe had already disappeared below the horizon. Instead, he found his refection staring back at himself from darkened windows, his expression a mix of anger, fear, and self-pity. Now that he knew the poison had come from within the Foundation, the pressure to figure out who, why, and how had increased ten fold.

_Now…_ he thought, trying to focus his mind on the darkening cityscape in the distance. _It's getting personal…_

> > > > > > > >

True to her word, Nikki had remained at her fellow agent's bedside ever since Pete had left nearly six hours before. She was sitting sideways in the less than comfortable chair beside Mac's bed, several open folders in her lap. For hours she'd been sifting through the Hoff's case files, hoping to stumble across some small clue to help them discover who was behind the recent outbreak of violence. She'd had no luck so far, and was beginning to think that she never would.

Finding nothing of interest in the file she held, Nikki snapped the manila folder shut and dropped it to the floor beside her with a quiet plop. As she reached for another, a low groan from the bed beside her made her stop.

"Mac?" she asked, swinging her legs off the side of the chair to see him better. He groaned again, shifting uncomfortably under the blankets. Standing, Nikki went around to the far side of the bed in order to see his face. "Mac? You okay?"

Even in the dim lighting, she could see his face was tight with pain, a fresh sheen of sweat making his skin glow. In the background, she could hear that the tone of the heart monitor had picked up speed, her friend in obvious distress. Trying to rouse him, she gently shook his arm, frowning at the trembling she felt beneath her hand.

"MacGyver?"

"Nikki…" he muttered, not opening his eyes. "…Think I'm gonna be sick…"

"Oh…" she replied shakily, her hands automatically going for the small, tan basin that was left beside the bed. Setting it beside him, she reached up and pressed the call button, hoping someone would respond quickly. Feeling the need to offer the man some comfort, she smoothed the sweat-matted hair from his unnaturally warm forehead. "Hang on, Mac."

Nodding, Mac wrapped his arms as tightly as he could around his midsection, trying hard to fight against the excruciating pain and nausea that was threatening to consume him. He could feel Nikki's cool hand against his face, and could hear her talking to him, but the deafening roar of his own raspy breathing and wildly pounding heart made it impossible to make out what she was saying.

It felt like an eternity before the door finally burst open, Fuller and several nurses on his heels. Seeing the worried expression on the woman's youthful face, he hurried over to the bed.

"Nikki, what's wrong?"

"I-I don't know," she stammered, reluctantly moving as a nurse gently moved her aside. "I was reading and he woke up…"

"Mac, what's wrong?" Fuller demanded, giving his hand a firm squeeze. "MacGyver?"

"…Feel sic…" the young man's answer was cut off by a harsh cough and gag, the doctor and his team helping him to lean over the basin. For several minutes, they held up his shaking form as the violent retches continued.

"Easy, Mac, just let it happen," Fuller said, glancing over his shoulder to see Nikki at the back of the room, a hand over her mouth.

"Dr. Fuller, we have blood, sir," one of the nurses reported.

"Oh terrific…" he muttered, looking back to see the basin splattered with a mixture of dark and bright red. "I want him prepped for an endoscope _immediately._"

The nurse nodded and hurriedly left the room.

"MacGyver?" Fuller asked as he and the remaining nurse gently placed him back down on the bed. His eyes half shut and nearly gasping for breath, he seemed to be fighting to remain conscious. "MacGyver, can you hear me?"

His dark eyes fluttered opened for a minute, though they didn't seem to be focused on anything. "Yeah…sorry…tired…really…"

"I know you are," the doctor told him, watching as the nurse cleaned the streaks of blood from around his mouth. "In fact, I have a little test I need to run and I'm going to give you something to help you sleep through it. Does that sound okay?"

Mac nodded, too sore and exhausted to speak.

"All right. Just relax and I'll be back in a few minutes." As he turned to leave the room, Nikki reached out and took his arm.

"What's going on?"

"He's developed some bleeding somewhere along his upper GI track. I need to see how severe the damage is and if it's something I can repair without taking him into surgery."

"He's going to be okay though, right?"

"I sincerely hope so, Ms Carpenter," he said, offering her a sympathetic smile. "Listen, why don't you step outside to get some fresh air and maybe something to eat?"

"But Mac…"

"He's going to be asleep during the test I need to perform, and it's going to be a good hour, hour and half before he even thinks about waking up. No go on. You've got to take care of yourself too."

Nikki sighed and looked over at her dozing friend. She really wanted to stay by his side in case he needed something, but deep down she knew the doctor was right. She had to watch out for herself too. "Okay. I'll go – but just for a few minutes. I promised Pete I wouldn't leave him alone."

Fuller gave her arm a light squeeze. "All right. You know what you have to do. I have to go get ready now."

Nodding, Nikki watched him leave room as she removed her jacket from a hook on the wall. With a somber glance at MacGyver's still form, she turned on her heel and headed out of the room before her emotions could overwhelm her.

> > > > > > > >

About an hour later, Nikki sat alone in the ICU lobby, an old issue of _Scientific American_ clutched in her hands. She'd returned to the sitting area soon after following the doctor's advice, having gone out to get some fresh air and eating a small salad from the hospital's cafeteria. Now, as she sat staring blankly at the outdated article in front of her, she couldn't help but wonder and worry about what was going on behind the closed doors of her friend's room.

A quiet ding from the direction of the elevators causing her to look up, Nikki breathed a sigh of relief to see it was Pete walking down the hall.

"Nikki, what's going on?" he asked, taken aback as the usually confident and defensive woman jumped from her seat and collapsed against him in a hug. "Nikki?"

She stood back and sniffed quietly, Pete noticing she looked about as tired as he felt. "Not long after I got off the phone with you, Mac started vomiting blood."

"What?" he gasped, taking her hand and moving back towards the seating area. "Oh no…"

"Dr. Fuller's been in with him for over an hour now doing some sort of test," she explained, wringing her hands together. "Pete, it was awful. I've _never_ seen anyone in such pain before."

Pete sighed and put an arm around her shaking shoulders, realizing just how bad things must have been to cause her to act like this. "I'm sure he's going to be fine…"

She turned and looked him square in the eyes. "After all that's been going on, do you _really _think that?"

Her boss sighed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "No, no I'm not. I was hoping if I could convince you, than maybe I could convince myself. I guess it didn't work, huh?"

She smiled slightly and shook her head. "No."

"Yeah, thought so."

"Did you find out who last accessed the file in question?" she asked, her composure slowly returning.

Pete shook his head. "Trace said it would probably take half the night to go back through all the records. He seemed confident that he was making progress though."

Both looked up when the private room's door suddenly swung open, several nurses exiting with various pieces of equipment in tow. Fuller appeared moments later, drying his hands on a wad of brown paper towels.

Pete snapped to his feet. "Greg."

"Peter, did your man get the records we faxed?"

"Yeah, he's working on them right now. How's Mac?"

The doctor sighed and finished drying his hands before discarding the towels in a nearby trashcan. "I found the cause of MacGyver's bleeding. He had a half dozen small tears and open sores along his esophagus and stomach, most likely caused by the stress of vomiting so much over such a short time. I managed to cauterize the worst of them without much difficulty during the procedure, and with a little luck, they should stay closed. Just as a precaution, I've increased all his medications and started him on oxygen to try and alleviate the chest tightness he's experiencing."

Nikki frowned. "That's something new."

"I'm afraid until we know exactly what we're dealing with, we have to expect that he's going to continue to deteriorate."

The two Phoenix employees nodded, their expressions solemn.

"Can we see him?" Pete finally asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over them.

"Sure," Fuller replied, moving to open the door for them.

Nikki balked, hesitant to enter for fear of what she would find. "Is he awake yet?"

Fuller peered into the dimly lit room to see Mac wearily pressing a hand against his forehead as the sedation drugs slowly wore off. "He's working on it. Just don't be too offended if he falls asleep on you again. He's pretty drugged up right now."

Pete smiled as he gave his partner a gentle push into the room. "We won't be."

With the door shutting behind them, the two colleagues slowly approached the bed where their friend lay trying to wake up. The only sound in the room was the heart monitor tolling away in the background, the rhythm noticeably faster than it had been before. Although he now wore a nasal cannula for oxygen, his breathing still seemed to be somewhat labored.

Looking slightly more comfortable that the last time she'd seen him, Nikki was the first to speak. "Hi, Mac."

He turned his head on the pillows, his eyes slow to focus on the people in front of him. "Nikki…Pete?"

"Right here, kid," Pete said, squeezing his arm. "How you feeling?"

He took a moment to answer, his head foggy from the medication. "Tired. Sore…just really tired."

"We'll let you rest then."

"We just wanted to make sure you were okay," Nikki agreed, watching as his dark eyes slowly slid shut and his breathing evened out. After watching him sleep for a few minutes, she turned and motioned Pete to the back of the room. "So, now what?"

"Well, I'm going to stick around and wait for a call from Trace. As for you, I suggest you head home for some rest. It's been a long day."

"Pete, are you sure? I mean I'm more than willing to stay…"

He held up a hand to stop her. "You go on home. I don't mind taking the "first watch." Besides, if we really do have a rogue member of the Foundation running around, I want someone I know I can trust stationed with MacGyver at all times. And I'd prefer it to be either you or myself."

"All right. But I'm coming back first thing in the morning to relieve you," she said, her boss nodding in agreement.

"Have a good night, Nikki."

"Thanks," she uttered, slowly turning to leave the room. "Y-you'll call me if anything changes?"

"Of course."

"Right. Thanks. G'night."

Pete puffed out a deep sigh once Nikki had left and the door shut behind her. Taking off his dark blue blazer and loosening his tie, he quietly made his way to the chair that sat beside the bed and sank into it.

"Goodnight, MacGyver," he said, looking fondly at the sleeping young man.

Smothering a yawn with his hand, Pete rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes, wondering if he'd be able to fall asleep himself amongst the sounds and smells of the unfamiliar room. Within minutes, however, he began to snore softly, lulled to sleep by the reassuring toll of his friend's heart monitor.

> > > > > > > >

It was just after seven when Nikki stepped out of the elevator in the ICU, a large, band-aid shaped balloon with the words "Get Well Soon!" trailing behind her. After checking in at the nurses' station, she headed over to room four and gave a slight knock before entering. As she opened the door, she could just make out the sounds of a TV playing softly in the background.

"Pete?"

"He's not here, Nikki," a weary voice replied.

"Well, good morning, MacGyver!" she greeted, offering up the most encouraging smile she could muster. Although not as groggy as the night before, he still looked exhausted. "It's good to see you awake. How you feeling?"

Mac shrugged. "Still tired."

"I bet," she agreed, the dark circles under his eyes leaving her to wonder if he'd gotten any sleep at all overnight. "You've been through a lot."

"Yeah."

"I, um, I brought you something," she said, bringing the balloon forward for him to see.

Gazing up at the oblong shape that was tugging against its long string, Mac couldn't help the weak grin that spread across his face. "You didn't have to, you know."

"Yeah, I know," she replied, wrapping the green string around a peg in the wall. "But I thought you needed something to brighten this place up, and I didn't think you were the flower type so…"

He shook his head and sighed. "Thanks, Nikki."

"You're welcome."

A knock at the door turned their attention to the back of the room, just as a nurse poked her head inside. "Ms Carpenter, Mr. Thornton asked that you report to Dr. Fuller's office as soon as you arrived. He's already there with another associate from the Phoenix Foundation."

"Thank you. Let them know I'm on my way," she said, the nurse nodding and leaving the room. Turning back to MacGyver, she found that he'd started to drift off to sleep, his eyes closed. Reaching for the television remote, she aimed it at the screen and switched it off, plunging the room into near silence. "You get some rest, Mac. Pete and I will be back in a bit, okay?"

Her words acknowledged with a muted grunt, Nikki watched as he shifted around until he was curled up on his side. With a sympathetic smile, she straightened his blankets and turned to leave, certain he was asleep even before she'd reached the door.

> > > > > > > >

Several minutes later, Nikki was knocking on the doctor's office door, a strong feeling of apprehension taking hold as she was told to come in. As she entered, she found Pete, Trace, and Fuller all seated around his large desk with mugs of steaming coffee in their hands.

"Nikki, come in," Fuller greeted as he stood. "Coffee?"

"Yes, please," she replied, taking a seat beside her boss.

"Nikki, you know Tracey Matthews, right?" Pete asked motioning to the young man on his left.

"Yes, how are you this morning, Trace?" she asked, struggling to keep the word "geek" out of her mind.

"I'm fine. Thanks for asking, Ms Carpenter," he said with a slight bob of his head.

Gladly accepting the mug of coffee held out by the doctor, she turned to her boss. "So, what's going on?"

"We were just discussing the analysis outcome of Mac's lab results. Trace?"

"Ah, yes, as I was saying earlier, there's no doubt in my mind that Mr. MacGyver's been exposed to the agent designated C2-03-87," he replied, wasting no time getting to the point.

Nikki raised an eyebrow. "How could he have been exposed? He was out of the country for nearly a week."

"It's likely he ingested it soon after his arrival home. He became ill the following evening, which coincides perfectly with the information we have available on the chemical itself."

Fuller held up the meager five pages of text he'd been reading. "And you're certain this is all you have on it?"

Trace nodded. "I'm afraid so, sir."

"So-so what do we do now?" Nikki asked, taking a small sip of the black brew.

"We wait," Fuller replied bluntly.

"For what?"

Pete released a shaky sigh. "To see if he makes it."

All color drained from her face. "_What!"_

"It's all there in the data, Nikki," he explained, his tone somber. "The chemical's called "juicio final", which means "final judgment" in Spanish. Columbian drug lords used it to "test" the integrity of their laborers if he thought they were becoming disloyal. Once added to the water supply, it would only take days for a village of 1000s to be reduced to a mere handful. Those who survived the ordeal were deemed loyal to the drug lord and allowed to return to work. Those that didn't were said to have served their punishment for not following orders."

"According to the information," Fuller said as he briefly scanned the text. "It's quite a virulent substance. It causes flu-like symptoms within 12 hours after exposure, which quickly escalates into more frequent vomiting, high fever, severe abdominal pain, dizziness, and weakness. Death was usually caused within 2 to 3 days due to inadequate treatment of the symptoms, or for those who were lucky enough to get some treatment, heart and respiratory failure."

"Isn't there a cure of some kind? A-a reversal or an antidote or…" Nikki stammered, not having been prepared for what she was hearing.

Trace shook his head. "In a clinical sense, no, ma'am, there's not. We don't even know for certain all the species of plants that contributed to the mixture."

She turned to her boss. "But didn't you say there were survivors?"

"There were some…"

"So then there's still a chance?" she interrupted.

"Yes, ma'am, all be it a small one," Trace began. "The research indicates that the chemical does have one weakness, and that's time. Apparently, the chemical only remains active within the human body for about 96 hours, which is when the substance begins to break down. It's at this point that the surviving victims began to exhibit signs of improvement, as their bodies were able to filter out the now weakened chemical. All this, of course, is assuming the person still has a properly functioning liver and kidneys, _and_ enough strength to survive the recovery."

"And that means…"

"It means that if we can help Mr. MacGyver hang on for another 48 hours," he continued. "His chances of survival will increase exponentially."

Heavy silence befell the room as each of its occupants processed what had just been shared.

"Then we really do just have to wait," Nikki said at last.

Pete nodded and squeezed her arm. "It's hard, I know."

"And it's likely going to get harder," Fuller warned, tapping his fingers lightly against his mug. "As you can imagine, the next 48 hours are going to be critical. We're going to do everything we possibly can to treat his symptoms and control pain. We're dealing with something that should have never been created, and I just want you to understand that our best may not be enough."

Nikki dropped her face to her hands and rubbed her eyes. "I certainly didn't expect to be hearing this…"

Pete sighed sadly. "I know – it's difficult for all of us. Why the killer chose to do this to MacGyver is beyond me. And for his and our other victim's sake, I think the best thing we can do now is try to find this guy and bring him to justice."

"That reminds me…" Trace muttered suddenly, and began rummaging through his coat pocket for something. "I haven't been able to pinpoint the exact code that was used to access the bio/chemical lock up yet, but I do know it was a guest registry. One that was active on the ninth through the sixteenth."

"A guest code?" Nikki exclaimed. "That's impossible! Those things barely let you into a restroom without a secondary authorization, let alone a specimen lock up."

The young man held up his hands defensively. "I know, I know. It shouldn't have happened and I still don't understand how it did. But this code could have belonged to any of the dozens of guests that come in and out of the Foundation on a daily basis. I know it's not much, sir, but…"

"No, no, you did good, Trace," Pete assured him. "You found what I was looking for and it will greatly narrow my search on the security tapes. I can take it from here."

All eyes turned to the doctor as his pager began to beep.

"Oh, I knew I should have left this home today. Peter, I'm sorry, I have to take this," Fuller said as he stood up and tugged on his white coat. "And just so you know, I'm planning on discharging a few of the other victims this morning. I'll get the paperwork up to you as soon as I can."

"That's great. Thanks, Greg."

As the doctor left, the others stood and began to gather their things.

"Mr. Thornton, I'd be willing to head back to the Foundation and begin reviewing the security tapes if you wish?" Trace offered, pulling on his khaki trench coat and tying the belt.

The director shook his head. "I want you to go home and get some rest. You've been up all night staring at numbers and you need a break. Besides, I may need your skills again before we're all said and done here."

"Thank you, sir. Do tell Mr. MacGyver he's in my thoughts. Have a good day."

"You too, Trace," Pete called, watching the young man leave the office. Once alone, he turned to his unusually quiet agent. "Nikki, I'm sorry about all this…"

"There's nothing you could have done, Pete," she said honestly. "Someone out there is mad and they're hurting us in ways that doesn't allow us to fight back. We'll catch them. We have to."

"I know. I just wish there was more we could for Mac. Not that anyone deserves this, but god…" he stopped when a thoughtful look crossed her face. "What?"

"I think there is something we can do for him."

"You do?"

"Yeah, just be there for him. I mean he's always been there for us when we've needed help."

The stout man nodded. "You know, you're right."

"Aren't I always?" she asked, playfully.

Pete was about to comment when a horrific rumble of protest came from his midsection, causing his face to flush with embarrassment. "Sorry, I guess I forgot about breakfast."

"Do you want to swing by the cafeteria for a bite to eat? I don't think the ICU staff would appreciate you walking around the ward sounding like that. They want it quiet there, you know."

After shooting her an exasperated look, he nodded. "All right. A _quick_ bite then right back up with Mac. I don't want to leave him unguarded for very long."

"Quick it is," she replied, hooking her jacket with a finger before leading the way out of the office.

> > > > > > > >

"So how did last night go?" Nikki was asking as they exited the elevator nearly an hour later.

"Not well. I think I got more sleep than Mac did. He was sick every few hours. The night doctor tried several different drugs to help the nausea, but nothing seemed to work. I felt so bad – rest is the one thing he needs and he couldn't even do…" Pete's words faded in his throat when he noticed Dr. Fuller was standing in the doorway of their friend's room.

"All right, let's run an EKG and switch him over to a mask," the doctor was saying as he turned to find the two Phoenix employees standing behind him. "Peter, Nikki, I was just going to page you."

"What's going on?" Nikki demanded. "Is Mac okay?"

Fuller sighed and motioned for them to follow him into an empty, adjacent room. Closing the door against the morning routine of the ICU, he bit his lip in thought.

Pete raised an eyebrow. "Greg?"

"A slight complication has come up."

Nikki felt her heart jump. "What kind of complication?"

"MacGyver's begun to exhibit signs of arrhythmia – an irregular heartbeat."

Pete felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "What?"

The doctor held up his hands. "Peter, it's nothing to get upset about just yet. Right now it's a very minor irregularity, and it's only causing him a little discomfort. We're going to keep a close eye on it, and…"

"It's the poison doing this?"

"I'm afraid so, Nikki. Apparently the chemical is known to do its worst damage in the last 24-36 hours before it begins to break down, mostly due to the body's already weakened state. "

Pete shook his head in frustration. "Damn it…"

"Look, guys, this doesn't necessarily mean we're losing the fight. We're just going to have to work a little harder to keep the scales tipped in our favor. From the little information we have, we know he's going to get worse before he gets better."

Nikki snorted and crossed her arms. "Don't you mean _if_ he gets better?"

Fuller sighed and shook his head. "Listen, I'm sorry…"

"Greg, we know what you're trying to do and really appreciate it. It just doesn't make the fact that we're watching a close friend slowly die any easier," Pete explained.

"I know."

"Is it okay if we see him now?" she asked quietly.

"Sure," the doctor replied, pulling open the door to allow them out.

As they followed him back to their friend's room, Pete spoke up. "You said this is causing him some discomfort?"

"He's a little short of breath due to some fluid building up and experiencing occasional chest pain, but he's doing a pretty good job of keeping it to himself. We probably wouldn't have even noticed it if a nurse hadn't heard it during a routine vitals check. He's a very stubborn man, Peter."

He smiled widely. "You're telling me!"

Just as they approached room 4, a young nurse stepped out and handed Fuller a manila folder. After flipping it open, he thanked her before turning to the pair behind him. "I'm going to go have these EKG results processed. Have a good visit."

"Thanks," Nikki muttered quietly.

Sensing her dismay, he put a reassuring hand on her arm. "I know it's hard, but try not to worry too much, okay? He's proving himself to be a very strong fighter."

She nodded and watched him leave, only entering the room when her boss gave her a gentle nudge.

As before, the private room was dimly lit and silent except for the slightly louder pulsing rhythm of a heart monitor. Approaching the bed, they found Mac to be sound asleep, an oxygen mask now covering his mouth and nose.

"This just isn't fair," Nikki uttered, noticing the fine lines of pain around his eyes. "No one deserves this – especially Mac."

"I know, I feel the same way," Pete agreed, smiling at her slightly when he saw the balloon floating overhead. "But it just makes me want to catch this guy even more."

She snorted. "And how are we ever going to do that?"

"Well, Trace gave us a starting point. We need to check out all active guest codes assigned between the ninth and the sixteenth and see whom they belonged to. And then there are the security tapes from the specimen lockup to review," he explained. "And I suppose it's time I get started on that, huh?"

"Yeah..."

Allowing the room to fall into silence, the two simply stood and watched their friend sleep for several minutes, their faces sharing a mask of concern.

"Do you mind…"

Nikki shook her head. "No, no, I don't mind staying. And listen, why don't you fax over the guest registry and lists of codes? I could put names to numbers and save you some work."

"I could do that, thanks," he agreed, picking up one of MacGyver's hands into his own. "I need to head back to the office, Mac, but Nikki's going to stay and keep you company. Try not to give her a hard time, okay?"

When there was no response, Pete just smiled sympathetically. "Hang in there, kid."

"Fuller was right about one thing," Nikki began as she settled into the chair beside his bed. "He's a fighter."

"Yeah he is," the director seconded. "Listen, I'll be sending a guard from the Foundation to keep watch outside the room. I only want Fuller's staff, you, and myself having contact with MacGyver. This killer is still out there and there's no telling what they may do if they got in here."

She nodded. "Right. Got someone in mind?"

"I sure do," Pete replied as he reached the door. "And, Nikki… we'll get through this."

"Okay," she said, watching as he left the room. Releasing a shaky sigh, she looked over at Mac's still form and frowned. "We have to."

> > > > > > > >

Sitting at his desk surrounded by piles upon piles of VHS boxes, Pete puffed out a sigh as his TV screen once again went blank, another tape coming to an end. Using the remote to eject the tape, he fumbled around in the dark to find the next cassette. He'd been at it for hours, going through eight days worth of security video footage, hoping to spot someone stealing from the lockup. So far, he'd had no luck, and had been staring at an empty room for most of the time.

Taking a long pull from his mug of coffee, Pete hit the fast-forward button on his remote and sighed again, rapidly growing bored with the whole process. Dropping his chin into his hand, he found himself doing a double take when something odd finally caught his eye. Cueing back the tape, he sat up in his chair and pressed play to watch.

"What the…?" he uttered, his full attention on the screen in front of him.

As he watched, a single figure entered the frame, over dressed in a long, dark coat and brimmed hat. Clearly knowing what they were doing, the person looked around as they slipped off their dark jacket and approached the camera that was filming them. Their face obscured by the large brimmed hat, the figure reached up to cover the camera, their right shirt sleeve slipping back slightly before the screen went blank.

The last action having happened so quickly, Pete stopped the film and advanced it back frame by frame until he had a clearer picture of what he had seen. When the person's sleeve had slipped back, it had revealed what appeared to be something wrapped around their wrist.

"What in the world?" he uttered, squinting at the monitor as he tried to make out what he was seeing. _A bracelet? A birthmark? A watch?_

Stumped, he pushed play on the remote again and watched the black screen for several minutes. Abruptly, the jacket was removed, allowing the camera to catch one more glimpse of the person's brimmed hat before they disappeared from sight.

"Well, I'll be…" Pete uttered as he popped the tape from the machine and picked up his blazer from the back of his chair.

_We might just have footage of our suspect in action…_ He thought, pocketing the tape and heading straight for the Foundation's media department.

> > > > > > > >

Alex Nelson, a very dark, tall, and muscular Phoenix security guard, scowled at the crossword puzzle he had clutched in his large hands. He'd been sent to keep watch outside of MacGyver's room, and his orders were not to allow anyone in unless their name was on the list he had been provided with. Good friends with Peter Thornton, the intimidating man had been more than willing to lend a hand, honored that Pete had turned to him in light of all that was going on.

Rubbing his stubbly chin, Nelson found his attention abruptly drawn away from the puzzle when a person bustled by him and headed straight for his charge's door.

"Excuse me, sir," he boomed, his deep voice making the person freeze in their tracks. "Can I help you?"

Thomas Perry turned and looked up at the brawny security guard with one of his fake, toothy grins. "Yes, actually, I'm looking for a friend of mine, MacGyver. He was admitted the other day after being maliciously poisoned, and I wanted to see how he was doing. This is his room, is it not?"

"Your name, sir?"

Perry straightened his size too small jacket. "Tom Perry. _Agent _Tom Perry. MacGyver and I just closed a case together."

As Nelson removed the folded list from his pocket, he never took his steely eyes off the beaming man below him. After briefly checking the list of names, he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Perry. Your name isn't on the admittance list. I'm afraid I can't let you in."

"What?" Perry asked, dumbfounded. "But Mac and I are like partners – I just wanted to see how he was doing for myself. Can't I just see him for a minute or two…"

The guard stepped between him and the door. "I am under direct orders from Peter Thornton not to allow anyone into this room unless their name is on this list. I'm not finding your name, so therefore, you're not going in."

"Come on. What do you think I'm going to do? Really? Finish the job?" the agent scoffed, starting to become cocky. "Give me some credit, big guy."

Suddenly the door swung open and Nikki appeared looking rather annoyed. "Excuse me, is there a problem here?"

"This gentleman insists on seeing Mr. MacGyver, but his name is not on the list Mr. Thornton provided."

Nikki turned around to see the slimy smile of Perry and set her jaw. "Tom."

The Canadian turned up his charm. "Nikki. Would you please tell this man that I'm just trying to check on the welfare of a friend?"

"A friend? You've _spoken_ with Mac, what, half a dozen times, and he's your friend?"

The agent shrugged. "Partner then?"

Nikki snorted and crossed her arms defensively. "What do you want, Tom? Really?"

"Nothing! I just wanted to see how Mac is doing. There's all these rumors floating around the Foundation, and I…"

"Wanted to come in to get some more fuel for the fire?"

"Yes – I mean, no! Look, I realize I'm just a "guest" at the Foundation, but in the short time I've worked with you folks I feel like I've, in a way, become part of your team," he explained, sounding about as sincere as his smile was fake.

"That's very touching, Tom, but I still can't let you in until your name is cleared."

"Cleared?" he scoffed, feigning hurt. "Wait, you think _I_ could have done this?"

"At this point, we're not taking any chances."

"But I got threatened too! This whole thing started with me!" he nearly shouted, catching a dirty look from a duty nurse as she passed. "I'm sorry. I just don't understand."

"Tom, listen to me. This is for everyone's protection. We're not pointing fingers at you or anyone else. We're just trying to keep things as secure as possible until we have a better idea of what's going on," Nikki explained, although she knew no matter what she said, he wouldn't believe her.

"Yeah, but all I wanted to know was how…"

"Mac is doing as well as he can be," she replied, being as vague as possible. "He's sound asleep and that's the best thing he can do. Now, please do us all a favor by respecting Pete's orders and leave."

Perry set his jaw, looking first to the fiercely determined woman to his right and then to the over six foot giant at his left. "Fine. _If_ it has to be this way…"

"It does," Nikki uttered. "I'm sorry."

"All right. I'll be seeing you around then," he muttered, abruptly turning on his heel and heading back the way he'd came.

Nelson looked down at the Phoenix agent, her confident expression replaced with one of anxiety. "Is everything okay, ma'am?"

"Huh? Oh, yes, thank you, Dave. Everything's fine."

The large man nodded and returned to his seat, once again retrieving the puzzle from his pocket.

With a frustrated sigh, Nikki shook her head in disbelief as she reentered her friend's room. _Now what was that all about?_

> > > > > > > >

Waiting impatiently for the elevator doors to open, Pete lightly drummed his fingers against the folder he had clasped in his hands. He had just come from the Foundation's media department and was eager to share his findings with Nikki, as well as check in on MacGyver.

Practically pushing the doors open with his shoulders, Pete hurried down the nearly empty ICU halls, waved a greeting to his guard friend David Nelson, and let himself into room number four.

Startled by the sudden opening of the door, Nikki looked up from the book she was reading. "Hey, Pete."

"Hey," he replied, keeping his voice low. "How's he doing?"

"The same. He must be really out of it – he hasn't woken up at all since you left this morning," she said, looking at her resting friend. She nodded towards the folder her boss held. "Whatcha got?"

"Photos from one of the security tapes I reviewed," he said, passing her the file. "Check these out."

As she flipped through the images, Nikki's eyebrows slowly rose. "Interesting…"

"I've got a group from the Media Department working on cleaning these up a bit. I still don't think we'll be able to get a positive ID, but…"

She pointed at the dark spot around the figure's wrist. "What's this?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. It could be jewelry, a birthmark, a defect in the film – at this point, your guess is as good as mine."

"The date stamp for the fourteenth at 0334 is correct?"

"Yeah, it came right off the tape," he answered, watching as she headed into her briefcase. "Why?"

"Here," she said, handing him a sheet of paper.

"What's this?"

"The list of Foundation guests with active access codes for the fourteenth."

"You're quick," Pete grinned, impressed with her speedy work. Glancing down through the list, he soon found it to be much longer than he'd anticipated. "Well, this will help narrow down Trace's search a little bit. Thanks."

"No problem."

As Pete tucked the list into his pocket, he noticed the troubled look on his colleague's face. "Everything okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Well, kind of..." she uttered, deciding to tell him the truth. "You'll never guess who tried to get in to see Mac about an hour ago."

"Who?"

"Tom Perry. He got pretty irritated when we turned him away too."

"Perry?" the director scoffed. "What business does he have with Mac?"

She shrugged. "Says he just wanted to see how his "friend" was doing with his own eyes. I can't put my finger on it, but there's just something about that guy that seriously creeps me out. And it's not just because the first time we met he introduced himself by saying: 'Hi, I'm Agent Perry. Will you marry me?'"

Pete chuckled at the memory. "I think he was just trying to be funny, Nikki."

"Who knows?" she muttered, running a hand through her hair. "So, what time are you heading home?"

"I'm not. I'm staying here tonight."

"Pete, I'm more than willing to stay…"

"I know you are, and I appreciate it. But I have another task in mind for you."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I spoke with Trace before I left to come here. He's thinking we should try to find out how Mac came into contact with the C2-03-87. It could prove to be useful evidence in court."

"Didn't Trace say he likely ate it?"

Pete nodded. "Yeah. That's why I'm wondering if you'd head back to MacGyver's place and collect any food item that's been opened. Check the cupboards, the fridge, and the trashcan, even his jeep. I'd do it myself, but you're better at that sort of thing. You have more patience."

"Well, I don't know about that, but sure, I'll do it. Where do you want me to take it?"

"Back to Trace's lab at the Foundation. He should still be there by the time you get in."

"Consider it done," she said, standing up and gathering the few items she'd brought with her. "And you're certain you don't want to sleep at home tonight? I could come back…"

"I'm positive. Now go on. I don't want to keep Trace in suspense too long. It's not good for him."

Nikki smiled and turned to Mac, giving him a small pat on the arm. "See you in the morning, sleepyhead."

"Thanks, Nikki," Pete said as she headed for the door.

"No problem. Have a good night, Pete. Get some rest"

"You too."

With a short sigh, Pete settled down into the chair Nikki had just abandoned and picked up the file of photos. Opening it, he flipped to the image that had them all puzzled, the shot of the person's arm with something blurry around their wrist. Deep down, he knew it was something significant, something that could positively identify who the person was.

_And the big question is…_ he thought as he stared blatantly at the image. _What the hell is it?_

> > > > > > > >

_"…Another story in today's top news, the city mayor has announced that he intends to close down a local…"_

Pete sighed and lazily stretched his arms over his head, quickly losing interest in the news that was playing on the television screen overhead. It was a little past seven, the majority of his afternoon having been spent analyzing the pictures captured from the security tape. Although he was pretty certain the person they were looking for was male, he hadn't made any headway with identifying the object around the person's wrist.

As he picked up the remote to change the channel, he thought he heard a slight grunt come from the direction of his colleague. "Mac?"

Approaching the bed, Pete watched as MacGyver slowly began to wake up, a deep cough bringing new lines of pain to his pale face.

"Pete?" he uttered, carefully maneuvering himself onto his back.

"Yeah, I'm right here," he said moving into his line of vision. "How're you feeling?"

Mac reached up and pulled the oxygen mask from his face before rubbing his tired eyes. "Miserable…Nikki?"

"I sent her home a few hours ago. I'm afraid you're stuck with me again tonight."

A small smile crossed the troubleshooter's face. "Don't have to stay, you know?"

"I know, but I want to though, okay?"

Mac nodded and coughed again, his face screwing up at the fire in his chest.

At the sound of the door opening, Pete turned to glance over his shoulder. "Hi, Greg."

"Peter," the doctor greeted as he approached. "Hey! Look who's awake! How you feeling, MacGyver?"

"Been better," he replied through a series of short, deep coughs.

"How's the nausea and pain?"

"Both there."

Fuller frowned at his reply. "All right. It's about time for your next round of meds anyway. They should help you sleep right through the night."

"Wait…not yet."

The doctor's eyebrows slowly rose. "Why not?"

"Pete, the pictures. I want to see them," Mac replied, pulling himself up slightly.

The director's face revealed his surprise. "I thought you were asleep when I showed those to Nikki?"

"I heard some of what was said. Come on. Let me see them," he said, holding out his hand.

"Mac, you really need to keep the pain medication in your system in order for it to work…" Fuller warned.

"Pete…" Mac demanded as firmly as he could manage.

Thornton looked to the doctor beside him. "It's your call."

Fuller sighed, the idea going against his better judgment. "You've got five minutes. No more."

"Okay…" Pete uttered, fetching the folder from the bedside table and handing them to his friend. "They're a little blurry, but I've got Media cleaning them up as we speak."

Mac nodded as he slowly flipped through the images, his vision going in and out of focus.

"See anything you recognize?"

"No – nothing outright anyway. They hid their face well."

"_Very_ well. That's why the only thing we possibly have to go on is this…" Pete replied, pointing to the mark on the person's wrist.

"What is that?"

"Don't know. Jewelry, camera distortion – can't be sure."

"Right...what about…" he uttered, abruptly pressing a hand against his chest as the heart monitor emitted a rapid succession of beeps. Mac groaned and began to cough, a cold sweat breaking out on his face.

Fuller was at his side immediately. "MacGyver?"

Holding up a hand to signal he was all right, the troubleshooter took a few shaky breaths as he gradually began to regain control of his body. "Aw man…"

Fuller pulled out his stethoscope and started listening to his patient's breathing and wildly beating heart. "How's the pain now, Mac?"

"Fading…"

"You're sounding a little more congested than you were earlier," the doctor reported, removing several syringes from his pocket and injecting them into one of the hanging IV lines. Watching as Mac started to relax almost immediately, he reached down and replaced the oxygen mask over his face. "Let's not try to play hero again, okay, Mac?"

"Yeah…" he uttered, his dark eyes sliding shut. "No kidding…"

"What was that?" Pete asked, still shaken by what he had seen.

"That was an arrhythmic episode. And a pretty good one at that. He's been starting to have them more and more often," Fuller replied with a sigh. Reading the stress on the man's face, he decided to change the subject. "So, you're staying the night?"

"Yeah, I sent Nikki home again and Nelson will be leaving soon as well," he said, hesitating slightly before adding: "Is he going to be okay?"

"I don't know, Peter."

Pete nodded and frowned, a somber silence falling over the room.

"Listen, we had a call out for the night shift and I drew the short straw, so it looks like I'm pulling an all-nighter as well. If you need anything, or think something's happening, I'm only a call button away."

"Great."

Fuller reached out and gave Mac's hand a squeeze. "I'll be into check on you a little later, Mac. Hang in there. I think the worst is almost over."

"He's out like a light," Pete uttered, relieved that he was out of pain at least for the moment.

"Looks like we finally found a drug combination that works," the doctor agreed, turning to leave the room. "Get some rest, Peter. I'll be sure to tell the night staff you're in here sleeping. G-night."

"Thanks, Greg. Night."

> > > > > > > >

Nikki grunted with effort as she hefted the final box of food from Mac's house onto the lab's counter. "That's the last of it. Guess it's a good thing he was gone for almost a week – there wasn't much to collect."

Trace took a fleeting look over all the items now piled high on the table. "Mr. MacGyver's quite the health nut, I see. Bean curd, protein powder, three kinds of juices…"

Nikki nodded wholeheartedly. "Yeah. Just one word of advice: if he ever invites you over for lunch, it's best to bring your own food."

The short expert gave a toothy grin. "Actually, Ms Carpenter, new benefits of soy are being discovered daily. And, if prepared correctly, can be surprisingly tasty. Tofu has the amazing ability to take on nearly any flavor imaginable."

"I bet," she replied, quickly changing the topic before he could proceed into recipes. "So, do you really think you're going to find what made Mac sick somewhere in this stuff?"

"I certainly hope so. Although it won't help him directly, it'll prove invaluable in a court setting."

"Assuming we get that far," Nikki muttered, crossing her arms.

"We will," Trace assured her. "We just have to wait for all the pieces of the puzzle to fall into place."

"Yeah, well, at least no new cases have come up in a few days."

The expert tipped his head. "Perhaps Mr. MacGyver was the one described in the initial note. Maybe he _was_ the target."

"Mac? The 'stealer of the glory?' Trace, he's never taken anything from anyone."

He shrugged and picked up a case of food. "Not intentionally, no, but in this case, glory could be anything. Money, a medal, a promotion, even something as simple as praise. It doesn't necessarily have to be something tangible."

Nikki raised an eyebrow in thought.

"Anyway, it was just a notion. Thank you for bringing this in again, Ms Carpenter. I'm going to get started on it immediately."

"You're welcome. Thank you for doing this," she said, turning to head out. "Oh, and Trace?"

He turned back. "Yes?"

"Good luck."

His face lighting up with an appreciative smile, he nodded and watched as she slowly disappeared down the hall.

> > > > > > > >

Back at the hospital, Pete had managed to fall into a fitful sleep amongst the constant influx of nurses and doctors coming in to check on MacGyver throughout the night. Sprawled in the chair beside his friend's bed, he slept with his head tipped back against the wall, a quiet snore escaping his open mouth.

"…Snake…"

Pete's snore came up short as he sat up suddenly out of a dead sleep. Taking a moment to remember where he was, he held his breath and listened, uncertain if he had actually heard something or not.

"Perry…serpent…"

Now positive the sound had come from the direction of the bed, he stood up from the chair and hurried over.

"He's the snake…"

"Mac?" Pete whispered, turning the small lamp beside the bed on. In the dim light, he could see his friend moving restlessly, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. His skin shown with sweat and his raspy breathing could be heard halfway across the room. "MacGyver?"

"Perry…he's the snake in the grass…"

"Mac? Are you all right?" Pete asked as he rested a hand on his shoulder, his jaw dropping at the great heat he felt.

Abruptly, Mac began to cough, the deep, obviously painful spasms sending his boss scrabbling for the call button. Once certain help was on the way, Pete knelt down in front of his colleague and picked up his trembling hand. "Mac?"

"…He's the snake…his arm…the picture…"

"Mac, what are you talking about?" Pete uttered, terrified by what he was seeing.

"Pete?" his voice sounded lost.

"I'm _right_ here," he told him, holding his hand even harder. "Please talk to me, Mac."

"What's going on?" Fuller demanded as he came rushing through the room's heavy door and slapping on the lights.

"I-I-I don't know!" Pete stammered, allowing the doctor to move him out of the way. "He just started talking about a snake and…"

Fuller leaned close to his patient's ear. "MacGyver? What's wrong?"

"Pete?"

The director cringed at the alarm in his friend's voice. "I haven't left you, Mac. What is it?"

When there was no response, Fuller gave the man's hand a sharp squeeze. "MacGyver?"

"Perry…he's the serpent…his arm…it's…" His words cut off by a choking cough, Mac's eyes slowly slid shut as he struggled to draw in an adequate breath.

"Mac?" Pete called nervously.

"Don't do this, MacGyver…" Fuller warned, cursing as the monitoring equipment began to toll loudly. Slapping his hand down on the phone, he lifted the receiver and began to page: "Code Blue ICU 4. Code Blue ICU 4."

Within seconds, the room began flooding with nurses and specialists, each one knowing what task to perform without asking.

"Greg?" Pete asked, overwhelmed by all that was happening.

Assured that his team knew what they were doing, the doctor pulled the Phoenix director aside. "Peter, things are going to be a little hectic around here for the next few minutes and I think it would be best for you to step outside."

"But what's happening?"

"Mac's starting to lose the fight. We're going to step in and give him a little help. I'll let you back in as soon as he's stabilized, but for right now…"

The words hit Pete like a sack of bricks. "Losing the fight…?"

"Dr. Fuller, sir…" a nurse called from somewhere in the tangle of bodies.

"Peter, please. I'll explain more as soon as I can," he said before turning and joining the effort.

Emotionally numb, Pete slowly made his way towards the room's exit and the ICU's waiting area. As he sat dazedly into one of the hard, plastic chairs, he could hear the doctor's words echoing loudly in his mind: _Mac's starting to lose the fight… we're going to step in and give him a little help…_

"No…" he muttered, dropping his face into his hands. "No…"

> > > > > > > >

It was only half past six when Nikki exited the elevator and began making the now familiar trip down the ICU hallway, her noisy, high-heeled shoes hanging silently in her hands. As she rounded the corner towards the nurses' station, she spotted a recognizable figure sitting in the waiting area. As she approached, she found Pete to be sleeping, his chin resting uncomfortably on his chest.

"Pete?" she called, slipping her shoes on as she stepped onto carpeting.

"Huh?" the large man grunted, groaning slightly as discovered his now stiff and sore neck. "Nikki? What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep," she admitted as she sat down next to him. "Why are you out here?"

The director shook his head and was about to shrug until the memories of several hours ago all came rushing back. "Oh my god! MacGyver!"

Startled by his sudden outburst, Nikki held up her hands. "Whoa, Pete, what's wrong?"

"A few hours ago – he woke up talking about a snake –he felt so hot – and then he started coughing – he couldn't breathe-- I called Greg and he asked me to leave -- he said Mac was losing the fight…oh, god, Nikki, it was terrible."

She reached out and took his shaking hand in hers. "Pete, just calm down. I'm sure he'd being taken care of."

"I know, I just…" he sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily. "I can't believe I fell asleep."

"That usually happens when you're exhausted, Peter. I do have a cot in my office if you'd like to use it,"Fuller offered as he appeared from down the hall.

"Greg – MacGyver? Why didn't you wake me?"

"Because you where asleep," he replied smartly, then continuing as the anger flared in Pete's eyes: "_And_ we just got him stabilized about 20 minutes ago."

"How is he?" Nikki asked.

"I'm not going to lie to you," Fuller began, his voice serious. "We came very close to losing him. The poison has caused a lot of fluid to build up in his chest, which is making it very difficult for his heart and lungs to work effectively. His temperature shot up over 105 degrees within a very short time, and his blood pressure plummeted to unsafe levels. Not long after I sent you out, Peter, his heart rate accelerated to over 250 beats per minute, something that's very dangerous when combined with the troubles he's been experiencing. Right now his condition is critical, but stable."

"So what happened?"

"My guess is that the chemical is starting to break down, and the process has triggered a massive immune response. Normally, such a reaction could be easily treated, but where Mac's systems are already exhausted, his body has to struggle just to keep him alive. I've sent blood samples to the lab to find out exactly what's going on with the chemical, and we should have results anytime now."

"What can we do?" Pete asked, finally finding his voice again.

The doctor sighed and clasped his hands together. "There's not much you can do right now. He's unconscious, but sometimes he'll respond to voices. We are breathing for him in hopes to bring up his oxygen saturation levels and relieve some of the stress on his body. We're also working hard to bring his fever down. My best advice would be just to be there for him, let him know you're out there, and that he's not alone. Although, from what I've seen so far, I'm pretty sure he knows that already."

"Can we see him?" she asked quietly.

"Sure. Go on in. I'm going to go call on the status of his lab work," Fuller said as he turned to head towards his office. "Oh, and please be sure you're taking care of yourselves too. I don't need anymore patients running around here, all right?"

Pete cracked a smile for the first time in hours. "Gee, thanks, Greg."

After flashing a wide grin, the doctor disappeared down the hallway.

"Well," Pete uttered, offering a hand to help Nikki up. "Shall we?"

With a nod, she quietly followed her boss towards Mac's room, the feeling of apprehension building around her. Pushing open the door, a strange sense of déjà vu overcame them both. Inside, the room was dimly lit and nearly silent. Only now in addition to the low tone of a heart monitor, a muted hiss could periodically be heard as a machine now provided their friend with oxygen.

As they approached his bed, Pete's hand tightened around his partner's. "My god…"

As Fuller had said, MacGyver was unconscious, his body surrounded by bags of ice in an attempt to bring down his fever. No longer wearing a mask, a clear ventilator tube was taped against his pale face, the other end disappearing down his throat.

"He's strong, Pete," Nikki whispered, afraid her voice would crack if she spoke any louder.

"I know," he muttered, sitting down and picking up one of Mac's motionless, overly warm hands. "We're here, Mac."

Nikki sighed and smoothed back his shaggy hair before resting her hand against his face. "You're not alone."

The two allowed several minutes of silence to pass, each one listening to the comforting sounds of the machines that assured them their friend was indeed alive.

Nikki sat on the edge of his bed and brushed away a stray tear. "So, you said Mac was talking about a snake before all this happened?"

"Yeah. They were just random thoughts really. Something about snakes, serpents, he's the one, snake in the grass, his arm…" Pete replied, his eyes never leaving Mac's sleeping face.

"Fuller did say he has a pretty high fever. Maybe he was delirious?"

The director shook his head. "I don't think so. He was trying to tell me something but just couldn't get it out. He did mention Tom's name a few times."

She snorted. "Perry? Why?"

"Don't know."

Both turned when the door opened and Fuller stepped inside. "Just wanted to let you two know that the lab results have confirmed the chemical is starting to break down. We're going to have to check his blood work every couple of hours to monitor the progress, but I'm confident enough to say that I think the worst is over."

Nikki breathed a sigh of relief. "That's terrific."

"Thanks, Greg," Pete agreed.

"Sure, I'll leave you three alone now," Fuller said, preparing to leave the room. "Have a good visit."

Once he was gone, Pete turned to his sick agent. "You hear that Mac? Dr. Fuller says the worst is over. You should start feeling better soon."

"Thank god…" Nikki uttered.

"Listen, I'm going to take a drive out to the safe house in an hour or so to see how Tom is holding up. I'm sure some of the victims are getting antsy to move on with their lives – especially since nothing has happened over the past few days."

"Yeah, Trace and I were talking about that last night. He thinks Mac might have been the critical target."

Pete nodded in agreement. "I was beginning to think the same thing. Seeing we've been incident free since he got sick."

"Would you rather I go? So you can stay here with him?"

"No, I need to do it. I've been neglecting my duties as it is," he said with a frown. "But I'll have Dave Nelson posted outside again before I leave, just in case."

"Will you do me a favor first?"

Pete shrugged. "Sure, anything."

"Take Fuller up on his offer to use the cot in his office for a few hours?"

He hadn't expected that. "Nikki…"

"Pete, please," she insisted. "You look terrible."

"I don't know…"

"I'll be here with Mac. I doubt he'll even know you're gone."

He sighed. Sleep did sound inviting. "All right, but only for a few hours. I still have a lot of work to do."

"Good, now go. We'll both be here when you wake up."

Reluctantly, Pete stood and squeezed Mac's hand one more time. "I'm going to go catch a quick nap, Mac. Nikki's going to stay with you though, okay?"

To his surprise, Pete felt light pressure across his fingers. "I'll be…"

Nikki beamed. "See? Even he thinks you need rest."

"Okay! I'm going! Take it easy, MacGyver."

Standing up from the side of his bed, Nikki made her way over to the chair and sat down, fishing her novel from her briefcase. As she opened the book, she took one last look at her sleeping friend. "Tom Perry, MacGyver. Of all people for you to mention, why him?"

> > > > > > > >

Several hours later found Pete Thornton climbing the steep stairs to the second floor of the old building they often used as a safe house. He was searching for their guest agent, Thomas Perry, and had been told by a resident he could be found in the upstairs bathroom. After recovering his wind from the long climb, he approached the spacious room to discover the top half of Perry's body hidden beneath the sink.

"Tom?"

The clang of a wrench followed by a pained curse made Pete cringe, realizing he had probably just scared the man half to death.

"Mr. Thornton, is that you?"

"Yeah, Tom, it's me. You need a hand?"

"Oh, umm, yeah, hand me that short section of pipe, would you?" he asked, sticking his grease coated hand out from under the sink.

Doing his best to avoid disturbing the scattered piles of plumbing and tools, Pete knelt down and picked up a piece of pipe that matched the agent's description. About to hand him the pipe, the director froze as he spotted Perry's very real looking snake tattoo.

"You find it?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, here it is."

"Thanks."

As Pete stood back up, he could feel his face burning red.

_Mac said something about Perry being the snake…_

"Pete, you still there?" Perry's voice sounding hollow as it floated from under the counter.

"Oh yeah – I'm sorry, I didn't hear you."

"I asked how MacGyver was doing?"

"Umm," he stammered, his suspicion of the agent now slowly on the rise. "He's doing well. Getting rest -- lots and lots of rest. How have things been here?"

"Pretty quiet, actually. Although a few people are getting anxious to go home since nothing has happened for a few days. They're starting to feel safe again."

The director nodded. "Well, I don't see why they couldn't head home if they're ready. I'm sure they want to get on with their lives."

"I'll tell them when I get done here. You and Nikki any closer to a suspect?"

_Maybe…_ he thought ruefully.

"Not yet. The crime scenes are so clean that we don't have a whole lot to go on. Just a few blurry security camera photos and whatever the victims saw. They're good, whoever they are."

Perry slid out from beneath the sink and rubbed his greasy hands against the sides of his pants. "Come on, Pete. The Phoenix Foundation isn't going to let one guy give them the run around, are they?"

_And just how do you know it's only one guy? _He thought, deciding to play along and see where it got him. "So, Tom, what are your plans after this assignment is done?"

Perry turned on the sink, watching as it spit and groaned for several moments before finally spurting to life. Satisfied, he began washing his hands. "Don't know. I'm certainly not going back to the job promotion I was expecting, that's for sure."

"Oh?" Pete asked, noting the location of the snake's head matched perfectly with the blurry image on the photograph. "How come?"

The agent abruptly snorted, roughly wiping the excess water from the faucet with a rag. "I was promised the lead agent position upon my return _if_ I agreed to work in conjunction with the Phoenix Foundation _and_ closed the Hoff's case myself. Something your MacGyver decided to step in and do himself."

"MacGyver was only trying to help. He spotted an opportunity and ran with it..." Pete explained, disturbed by the man's sudden change in mood.

Perry was bitter now. "Yeah, well, his chance opportunity cost me a lifetime opportunity. Do your argents always do that, Mr. Thornton? Step in and steal other people's glory for themselves?"

Pete coughed, recognizing the words from the letter Perry received just before all the accidents began. "N-no, they don't. They help each other in many ways. Tom, I assure you, Mac did not capture those suspects to keep you from getting a promotion. He simply thought he was doing you a favor."

"Well, he wasn't," he muttered, abruptly slapping the wet rag onto the floor. Sighing, he knelt down and started to straighten up the mess he'd made. When he spoke again, all traces of anger were gone from his voice. "Listen, you might want to get a real plumber in here sometime in the near future. I only put a temporary patch on the hot water pipe – the lime is eating right through it."

"I'll do that," Pete uttered. "Thanks for patching it up."

The agent flashed him a fake grin as he hefted his toolbox from the floor and exited the room. "No problem. Almost as much fun as working with that bomb I found under my car last week."

_Now where did that comment come from?_ The director thought, unsure what to make of it. _He dismantled a pipe bomb, not a…_

"A pipe bomb…" he said to himself, his eyes now quickly searching the room. Spotting a roughly cut piece of pipe over in the back corner, he quickly made his way over and retrieved it, stuffing the sample into his coat pocket. Making his way to the door, he couldn't help but hear Mac's words echoing in his head.

Snake…Perry…snake in the grass…his arm…it's him… 

"I'm hearing you now, MacGyver," he muttered as he hurried down the stairs. "I'm hearing you loud and clear…"

> > > > > > > >

Nikki smiled empathically as she wrung the excess water from a small cloth before wiping it against her partner's unnaturally flushed face and neck. Although Dr. Fuller had given the go ahead to remove the bags of ice, Mac's fever was still high enough to be considered a concern. He'd remained unconscious throughout the day, responding only sporadically to her encouraging words with a weak squeeze to her hand.

"You've got to fight this, Mac. You're so close."

She glanced over her shoulder when the door opened to see her boss returning. "Hey, Pete."

As he walked over, she noticed his face was slightly paler than usual. "Hi, Nikki. How is he?"

"His fever has come down some, but he's still pretty much the same, " she replied. "What's wrong?"

"I think MacGyver was right," he uttered, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

She cocked an eyebrow. "About?"

"I think Tom's our man."

"What!" 

"I know, it's hard to believe, but, Nikki, the more that I think about it, the more I'm _sure _of it," he insisted.

"But how? I thought this was all over revenge for shutting down Hoff's ring?"

"It's what he wanted it look like. Here, take a look at this," he said, taking a folder out of his briefcase and handing her two photos.

The first one was identical to the security image she'd seen the other day only it had been digitally enhanced by the media team. Now, rather than a blurry smudge on the figure's wrist, she could easily make out what looked like a realistic snakehead. As she flipped to the second image, her jaw dropped. There, staring back at her with a fake grin from the glossy photo paper, was a candid image of agent Perry with a very real looking snake tattooed from wrist to shoulder.

"Oh my god…"

Pete stuck out a third sheet. "And here's the reason I was so late getting back. I've been at the lab waiting for this."

This sheet had two images of what appeared to be some sort of pipe placed side by side for comparison. The two pieces were identical in everyway, right down to the saw tooth marks where they were cut. "They're certain this pipe is the same material?"

"Yup. Same manufacturer, same lot number… it even has the same microscopic patterns made by a saw blade as the length Perry pulled off his car."

Nikki sighed and shook her head. "Wow. I mean I knew the guy was shifty but this…Pete…"

"I know. All we need now is for Trace to come through with the name linked to the guest code, and we've got him. As it is, I have enough to get this guy arrested now, but I want to be sure there won't be any doubt in the police chief's mind on this guy's guilt. Although with two of his officers dead, I'm sure it won't take much to convince him."

"What made you figure it out?"

"It was what Mac said this morning that initially got me thinking. Then Perry made an off color comment about the car bomb and our agents stealing other people's "glory" for themselves."

"Stealing glory? Wasn't that in the note he found on his desk?"

Pete nodded. "Yeah. He also said that what Mac did cost him a lucrative promotion back home. Can you believe the nerve of that guy?"

"Well, there's your motive, right there," Nikki uttered as the door opened.

"Oh, good! Peter, you are here," Fuller greeted as he briskly entered the room. "Trace is on the line for you. He said it's important."

Motioning for the doctor to stay, he picked up the receiver and held it to his ear. "Thornton…hey, Trace! What have you got?"

Listening anxiously, Nikki watched for her boss's face to reveal some clue to what he was hearing on the other end.

"You're kidding? You're not? No, I don't think it would be wise to joke about something like this…all right. Thank you, Trace. G'bye."

"Well?" she asked, not even waiting for him to hang up the phone.

Grinning slightly, Pete replaced the receiver onto its cradle. "He found the guest code registry. The password that was used to access the specimen lockup on the fourteenth was assigned to one Thomas L. Perry."

She still didn't understand. "But how? Guest codes don't allow you that high of clearance."

"It appears our guest agent left a little something out of his list of credentials: apparently he's very good at cracking all kinds of computer codes. By manipulating the guest code he was assigned, he was able to bypass the security measures and let himself right into the lock up."

"So MacGyver was right. Perry _is_ the snake," Fuller said, shaking his head. "Wow."

"He wrote the warning letter to himself and planted the bomb on his car to make it look like someone else was after him," Nikki muttered. "Unbelievable."

Pete continued: "Than he started causing "accidents" that targeted those involved with the Hoff's case to make it appear as though there were someone we missed, and they were out for revenge. The accidents stopped when he poisoned Mac, because _Mac_ was the target."

The doctor drew his head back. "Why?"

"Perry believes he deliberately caught the case suspects to keep him from getting the promotion," the director explained. "And to think I trusted this guy enough to put him in charge of the very people he's been harming. Goes to show that even an old pro can get tangled up in an elaborate lie. And just look at all the suffering it's caused."

"Peter, you can't blame yourself. You could have never known," Fuller protested.

He shrugged. "Maybe. I should have done another background check myself rather than just trusting what his agency sent me. I should have checked his past, his psychological status, _all _his credentials…"

Nikki shook her head. "Pete…"

"Bottom line is, I might have been able to prevent this."

"You had no idea this guy was going to go off his rocker."

"I slipped up…"

"There was _nothing_ you could have done differently."

"Yeah, there is…"

Nikki dropped her chin into her hand as she watched the two stubborn men arguing back and forth, knowing full well there was nothing she could say to stop them. With a sigh, she looked down to see Mac starting to stir. "Hey, Pete?"

"I mean it's my own policy to do background checks on anyone we team up with. Why did I treat this case so differently?"

"Dr. Fuller?"

"Will you stop blaming yourself? It's not going to help matters any…"

Mac slowly opened his eyes, struggling to focus them on his surroundings.

"Hi, Mac," Nikki said quietly, offering him a smile. Turning back to the quibbling men, she raised her voice. "Guys!"

"What?" they both asked, simultaneously.

"Mac's awake."

After sharing a look of disbelief with Pete, Fuller bounded to his patient's bedside. "Welcome back, MacGyver."

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Pete demanded, his face flooded with relief.

Nikki gave an exasperated snort. "It's not like I didn't try…"

"Are you in any pain?" Fuller asked, getting right down to business.

Mac slowly shook his head, exhaustion still obvious on his face.

"That's good to hear," Fuller said, watching as he made a small gesture towards the tube in his throat. "I know it's uncomfortable, Mac, but we need to leave it in for a while longer. You still have a lot of fluid in your chest, and the respirator is helping your body not have to work as hard. We'll see how you're doing tomorrow, okay?"

"It's good to see you're all right, Mac. You had us all worried," Nikki told him, her face still beaming.

"Yeah," Pete agreed wholeheartedly. "And you were right. Tom Perry has been the one behind all this. It looks like he's been trying to settle a nonexistent personal vendetta ever since the Hoff's case was closed."

"Speaking of which, the warrant?" Fuller asked.

Pete slapped his forehead and stood up from the bed. "Oh, you're right…umm…Mac, I need to go meet with the police chief to arrange a warrant for Perry's arrest. It shouldn't take too long, and then I'll come back to stay with you tonight…"

MacGyver shook his head.

"No? Why not? Is my snoring that loud?"

"He can't speak with the tube in," Fuller explained.

After moment of thought, Mac pointed to himself and then signaled thumbs-up.

Pete creased his brow. "What?"

"I think…" Nikki began slowly. "He's trying to say he's okay. Right?"

Mac nodded his approval.

"But, MacGyver…" Pete uttered.

Nikki stood up and put her hands on her boss's shoulders. "Listen, you take tonight off. Go do what you have to do to get the warrant drawn up and then go home. Get something good to eat, take a shower, sleep in your own bed…"

"Someone needs to be here in case we don't catch Perry tonight. If he finds out we're on to him, he could try something…"

"I'll stay," she volunteered. "And before you say anything, I don't mind."

The director sighed and looked down to his friend, noticing his eyes were already growing heavy.

"Peter, you need to look after yourself too. You need to rest just as badly as MacGyver does right now. Although he's not out of the woods yet, I have to say he is doing much better than I could have ever hoped," the doctor tried to assure him.

"He'll be fine, Pete. And you know I won't leave him."

Pete felt defeated. "All right. Three against one. I'll go."

"Good," Nikki said. "And I'm calling you later to be sure you're actually home."

"I'll be there," he replied, looking down at Mac and taking up his hand. "It's good to have you back, Mac. We missed you."

The troubleshooter slowly opened his eyes and gave his friend's hand a weak squeeze.

"I've got to go, but I'll be back in the morning. Get some rest, okay?"

With a shaky hand, he pointed at his boss then held up two fingers.

The director chuckled. "Me too. Right. Thanks."

"He'll be all right, Peter."

Sighing as he picked up his briefcase, Pete looked back to his already dozing agent. "Yeah… I know."

> > > > > > > >

Just four days after nearly losing a fight for his life, MacGyver sat propped up in bed, diligently scrawling something on a notepad. Earlier the day before, he'd been moved to the hospital's general ward, his private room small, but abundant with sunlight. Several bunches of brightly colored balloons were tied to a hook on the wall, complements of his many friends back at the Phoenix Foundation.

Although steadily making progress towards recovery, he still needed the extra support of IV fluids and oxygen, and remained under close monitoring for any residual side effects that the toxic chemical may have caused. He'd been respirator free for nearly 48 hours, Dr. Fuller having decided to keep it in place for an additional day to allow his body more time to heal. Nikki had been at his side when the offending tube had finally been removed from his throat, Mac grateful for her support when the process left him temporarily gasping for breath.

Now, totally absorbed in what he was writing, MacGyver didn't even bother looking up when there was a gentle knock at his door. "Come in."

"Well! Look at you!" Pete exclaimed as he entered the small room, elated to see his friend up in bed.

"Hey, Pete," Mac greeted, a grin spreading across his face.

"So," Pete began as he tugged off his jacket and sat down next to the bed. "How're you feeling?"

"I'm getting there. Slowly. You?"

"Me? Oh, well, much better now that Tom Perry is behind bars. _Federal_ bars, mind you."

"That's good. Have they charged him yet?"

"No, the hearing's sometime next week. But he's looking at 8 counts of murder, 5 counts attempted murder, and over a dozen assault charges," Pete replied. "Let's just say he'll never see the light of day as a free man again."

Mac nodded and carefully gathered up the papers he'd been working on before handing them to his boss.

"What's this?"

"The report you wanted me to put together about my last meeting with Perry. It's all a little fuzzy but…"

"No, no, this is great," he replied as he skimmed over the text. As he secured the document in his briefcase, Pete couldn't help but notice how tired his partner still looked. "You didn't push yourself too hard to get this done, I hope."

Mac waved him off. "Nah, it was no big deal. Once I convinced the duty nurse I was ready to sit up, that is."

"Well, well. Look at this!" Dr. Fuller exclaimed as he leaned through the open doorway. "How you feeling?"

"All right," Mac replied.

"Good, good," the doctor uttered, nodding at his patient's guest. "Nice to see you again, Peter."

"Yeah, you too. Thought you were off today?"

Fuller checked his watch. "My shift officially ended 15 minutes ago, but I wanted to swing by and see how Mac was doing before I left. Plus, I have some good news to share."

This caught Pete's interest. "Oh?"

"Yep. I just reviewed Mac's latest test results and they confirmed that there was no permanent damage caused by the poison. It'll take awhile before he's back up to 100, but as long as he takes it easy, the recovery should be complete."

A look of relief settled on the troubleshooter's face. "Thanks."

"That's terrific! So when can I bust him out of here?" Pete asked, thrilled by the news.

"Once his strength returns and he starts regaining the near 15 pounds he's lost," Fuller replied, leaning his tall form against the doorframe. "Probably in a couple of days."

"Gain weight?" the director unexpectedly exclaimed, gesturing at the half dozen or so cups of various liquids at his colleague's bedside. "How do you expect him to gain weight when all you're giving him is tea and watered down juice?"

The doctor raised an amused eyebrow. "Well, we've been keeping his diet bland in order to allow his stomach and throat some time to heal."

"He's a growing man, Greg. Cut him some slack. He needs alfalfa sprouts, tofu, and protein shakes, not jell-o!"

Mac dropped his face into his hands. "Pete…"

"Protein shakes, huh?" The doctor asked, seeing the young man's face flushing with embarrassment.

"Yeah."

"Strawberry sound okay?"

"Sure."

Fuller headed out of the room. "Sit tight. I'll be right back."

"Pete, usually it's the patients that complain about the food. Not the visitors," Mac uttered once they were alone.

"A little too insistent, was I?" he asked, ducking his head.

"Yeah…just a bit."

"I'm sorry, Mac. Just seeing you like this, so worn out and thin when you're usually so energetic and full of life…it's hard."

He placed a reassuring hand on his boss's arm. "It won't be long before I'm back to work and in your hair. You can count on that."

"All right," Fuller said, reentering the room with a tall glass in his hands. "Now this is probably a little weaker than you're used to, but we'll see how you do with it and go from there, okay?"

"Sounds good," Mac replied, taking the proffered cup and sampling some of the thick, sweet smelling liquid inside. "Not bad."

"My own secret recipe. Now, if you can keep that down without too much trouble, I'll have them brought to you every two hours. We'll slowly increase the calorie count, and in a few days you should start to show some weight gain. Sound like a plan?"

"Works for me," he agreed.

Fuller smiled. "Great. Well, I'll see you boys in a day or two then. Glad to see you're on the road to recovery, MacGyver. Listen to the nurses and get some rest, okay?"

His patient nodded, contently occupied with his shake.

"Bye, Greg," Pete said over his shoulder. "Thanks."

"See you."

"Well," Pete sighed, turning back to his friend. "That was some good news, huh?"

"Sure was, I can't wait to get out of here."

"I bet," he chuckled, catching a glimpse if his watch. "Hey, do you mind if I check out a game that's on?"

"If by a game, you mean golf…"

"I just want to see who's leading. Five, ten minutes tops."

Mac let out an exasperated sigh as he rubbed some of the pinkish drink from his mouth. "I suppose."

"Thanks," the director said, snapping up the remote and turning on the small TV before he changed his mind. Settling back in his chair with a satisfied sigh, Pete glanced over to see Mac shaking his head. "What?"

"How can you even call golf a _game_?" he asked, a hint of the familiar teasing twinkle beginning to appear in his eyes. "I mean there are no physical demands or feats of strength – it's just clubs, little white balls, and really tacky clothing."

"Hey!" Pete snapped, trying unsuccessfully to sound threatening. "Just drink your shake, and shush! This is a critical game! Ten minutes is all I ask."

Tipping his boss a sloppy salute, Mac sank back into the pillows behind him and did as he was told.

> > > > > > > >

Nearly half an hour later, Pete puffed out a satisfied sigh as he turned off the TV. Although the game wasn't over, he'd seen what he'd wanted to see, Mac having graciously granted his wish and kept quiet the entire time.

"See? Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked, turning to his friend to find him asleep. "Oh, whoops…"

"Excuse me," a low voice said from the doorway, Pete looking back to see a young nurse clad in teal scrubs. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I need to see if Mr. MacGyver had any problems with the drink Dr. Fuller gave him."

Nodding towards the dozing man, he smiled. "I'd say not."

Returning the grin, she went around to the other said of the bed and removed the empty glass from his limp hands. "He's still got a ways to go before his energy returns."

After carefully removing the extra pillows from around his sleeping form, the nurse then began to lower the head of the bed.

Startled by the motion, Mac stirred and opened his eyes. "Pete…"

The director stepped into his friend's field of vision. "I'm right here, Mac. I'm going to head out though, and let you get some rest, okay?"

"Uh-huh…" he uttered, shifting onto his side and burying his face in the pillow.

The nurse quickly untangled the hanging IV line before tugging the blankets up over his long form. "How's your stomach feel, MacGyver? Did the shake settle all right?"

"…Fine…"

"Good. I'll have another one ready for you when you wake up," she replied before bustling out of the room.

Mac simply nodded and shut his eyes, his energy reserves all but gone.

"Nikki said she'll be by later to visit," Pete said, patting his colleague's shoulder. "Get some sleep."

When there was no response, he smiled and shook his head. The man was asleep already. Quietly gathering his things, Pete turned to take one last look at MacGyver who was resting peacefully for the first time in days. "It's good to have you back, kid. Damn good."

> > > > > > > >

Four days later had Pete fumbling with MacGyver's house keys as he tried to unlock the front door as quickly as possible. After several attempts to get the sticky deadbolt to move, he finally pushed the door open and helped his still unsteady friend step inside.

After taking a few steps into his kitchen, Mac stopped and soaked in the comforting sights and smells.

_There's no place like home…_ he thought, gazing around the small houseboat. _And to think I how close I came to never seeing it again…_

"Couch?" Pete asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yeah, sure," he replied, realizing he probably wasn't quite ready for the stairs yet. With a contented grunt, Mac dropped heavily onto the plush sofa, amazed at how exhausted he was from the short ride home.

"Can I get you anything?" Nikki asked, walking into the den and depositing a duffel bag full of his things beside the couch. "Water? Tea?"

The troubleshooter shook his head. "No thanks. I think I'm just going to take a nap, actually."

Without a word, Pete hurried over and began to untie his friend's shoes.

Mac cocked an eyebrow. "Pete?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing?"

"Helping you off with your…oh, sorry. I'm hovering again, aren't I?" his boss asked, his face flushing with embarrassment.

"Little bit," Mac replied, finishing the task before stretching out on the soft surface. Having already forgotten about not hovering, Pete reached for the blanket that was folded over the back of the couch and spread it over him. Deciding just to let his friend do what he felt he had to do, Mac simply rolled his eyes at Nikki and let Pete finish tucking him in.

"Mac, we're going to go get you a few things at the store. I sort of cleaned out your fridge the other day," she said with a sheepish grin.

"Oh yeah. Did you ever find out what the poison was in?" he asked.

"A carton of milk that was in your trashcan," Pete explained. "Trace found the hole that was left from Perry using a syringe to inject it into the carton. It was so small, he needed a microscope to see it."

"Milk huh?" Mac uttered with a sigh. "First thing I grabbed when I got home that night."

Nikki shrugged. "There was no way to know, Mac. C2-03-87 has no discernable color, flavor, or odor. It's one of the things that makes it so deadly."

"But it certainly wasn't deadly in this case," Pete quickly added. "And we're very happy about that. You're too good of a friend not to have around."

MacGyver grinned. "Yeah, listen, I wanted to thank you guys. You stuck with me even when things seemed hopeless. It means a lot, and I don't think I could have gotten through it without you. Both of you."

"It's nothing you haven't done for us," Nikki replied.

"Right," the director agreed. "No one should ever have to go through what you did. And certainly never alone."

Mac simply nodded. "Thank you."

Pete clapped him on the arm. "You're very welcome. Now, we'll go and let you get some rest. Anything else you need other than the usual?"

"Nah, I'm all set."

"We'll be back in a few hours then," Nikki said as they both headed for the door. "Pleasant dreams."

"Bye," he called, settling back and listening to them leave. Once they were gone, Mac sighed heavily and folded his hands under his head, gazing up at the ceiling. Silently running through the events of the past week, he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by it all. From Perry going rogue over revenge, to nearly losing his life to a chemical he didn't even know he'd been exposed to.

_It all seems like a bad dream…_ he thought as he rolled over onto his side and hugged a small pillow to his chest. _But even the worst dreams don't leave you feeling this worn-out and weak…_

Shutting his eyes, Mac found himself thinking about how lucky he was to have friends and colleagues like Nikki and Pete. What he'd told them was true: if they hadn't been there to help him battle through the harrowing effects of the poison, he seriously doubted he would have made it. Whether it was their simple presence, their touch, or their encouraging words, he had become dependent on their support, drawing on it for a reason and strength to fight. And, if the need ever arose, he would be there to do the same for them.

_And that…_ MacGyver thought as he snuggled deeper into the blanket and pillows with a contented sigh. _Is what the meaning of true friendship is all about…_


End file.
